


An apple a day (keeps the doctor away)

by olympia_m



Series: An apple a day [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bondage, Clamps - Freeform, Cock & Ball Torture, Crossdressing, I Don't Even Know, Kinks, M/M, Medical, Non-Consensual, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slavery, Underage Sex, lots of kinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 09:37:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 22
Words: 34,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16344341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olympia_m/pseuds/olympia_m
Summary: An AU in which Dean is a happy slave-owner until he buys Cas....poor Cas.....





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written MANY, MANY YEARS AGO in reply to a prompt at LJ's kinkmeme (see below). But then, as it happens a lot with prompts, the story just wouldn't stop, and I kept writing. I haven't edited it since then, so apologies for all the mistakes etc. It is what it is....   
> Reposted because MoonlightBlizzard asked me to :)
> 
> (the kink was: Medical, water retention  
> Dean just got a new sex slave, Cas, and he's bringing Cas to the doctor's office for an medical exam. Dean and the doctor talk while the doctor checks Cas over, completely ignoring Cas. 
> 
> Dean talks to the doctor about what he should do to keep Cas obedient. The doctor lots of disciplining and humiliation to keep such a slutty slave such as Cas obedient. Cas is humiliated as Dean and the doctor talk about how slutty, pretty, and needy he is, about how he's obviously made to be a sex slave. Lots of focus on how sensitive and tight he is. 
> 
> The doctor also recommends a daily cold water enema and forcing Cas to retain the water while getting his hole spanked to keep him clean and tight. It would be amazing if the doctor also demonstrates this to Dean.)

Even though he is feeling a bit under the weather seeing who his next appointment is makes him smile. “Good morning, Dean. How are you today?” 

“I’m fine, Doc. How are you? You look a bit...” Dean lets the sentence trail off as he makes a vague gesture.

“Didn’t sleep well last night,” he says, smirking when he remembers exactly why he didn’t get much sleep the night before. His slave’s ass had been red by the time he’d finished and the boy had a matching set of bruises on his hips, shaped like his fingertips. 

Dean nods, smiling back knowingly. 

“So, what can I do for you today?” He asks as he motions Dean to sit. 

“It’s for my slave,” Dean starts. “I got him recently and I brought him over to be registered with your practice and to have his first check up here.” Dean opens his briefcase and hands him a folder. “This is his medical history.”

“Thank you.” He leafs through the pages in the folder. “No injuries, nothing worrying in his medical history. I’ll have Lynn copy all the relevant information but, you know, he looks healthy enough in paper.” A smile. “So, let’s check in the flesh, shall we?”

Dean’s slave has been there the entire time, trying to make himself as small as possible standing behind Jensen. He’s a pretty, young thing, but then again, which newly-bought slave wouldn’t be? At fifteen, he’s not finished growing up yet and he suspects that when he does, he’ll be as tall as Dean; the slave is already all long limbs, fine-boned and lean. But his most striking feature is his eyes, big and blue. When he lifts up the boy’s face, and orders him to look at him, he gets lost for a moment in two twin pools of blue, filled with innocence and obedience. “Very pretty,” he smirks as he lets go, and the slave looks down again submissively.

“I know, right?” Dean turns around and grasps the slave’s wrist, lightly stroking the skin there. “And those eyes.” 

He nods. “You got yourself a nice one,” he admits, although he wouldn’t trade his boy for anyone.

Dean beams at him. “I got a good deal. His name is Castiel, like an angel.”

He grins. “He certainly looks angelic enough, but we both know that he’s really just a horny slut, don’t we?”

The slave blushes, making Dean laugh. “Oh, he’s a slut alright. The things he does with his tongue...”

The boy’s reddened cheeks get even redder. 

“Take off your clothes,” Dean commands. “Isn’t he something? I think I’ll have my hands full with this one.”

The boy has very fair skin, and he seems to be blushing everywhere when he removes his shirt. “You’ll have to discipline him often,” he advises. “I give a good spanking to my boy every other day and I paddle him once a week so that he won’t forget his place.”

“I see. I never had this problem with Adam.”

“Yes, but Adam was never so needy,” he says as he pushes the boy onto the floor. “See how he kneeled immediately?” The slave’s skin is wonderfully pale all over; he bites his lips as he thinks that even the slightest pressure would bring out lovely marks. “He’s such a slut.” He can’t help fondling the white buttocks in front of him for a moment.

Dean frowns, considering it.

“A paddle leaves a nice, red impression all over,” he continues. “Although, he’s so pale, that you could also cane him every once in a while. Red stripes against white will look great.”

“How often should I do that?”

“Not too often. You don’t want to damage your property, after all. Although,” he grins as he puts on the latex gloves and opens a tub of lube. “Two weeks ago, I caned my boy and he still had the bruises last night.” The slave shivers and he slaps him to stop him from moving. 

“Go on,” Dean says. 

He smirks, noticing the slight tent on Dean’s trousers. “It made for such a nice contrast. The stripes from the cane had turned a dark brown under the paddle, while the rest of his ass was red.”

“Hm.” 

The slave is tense, despite being slapped to stay still, and when he slides his finger inside the boy, he tenses even more. “Such a tight, little hole.” It feels like his finger is gripped by a vice, a red-hot burning vice. “It’s like it’s grabbing me, and pulling me forward.”

Dean wiggles his eyebrows. “One of the things I love about him. Only needy sluts have such needy holes.” Dean clears his throat and adjusts himself as surreptitiously as he can. “Hey, Doc., any ideas on how to keep his hole nice and tight?”

“Yes, I have a few.” He smirks as he finds the boy’s prostate. It’s nice and soft, and the boy jerks. He slaps him once more, but the more he presses the sides, the more the slave starts pushing back. 

“He’s such a total slut for it,” Dean laughs. 

The slave’s head drops lower as if he’s ashamed. “Complete slut. If he misbehaves more than usual, you should perhaps flog his cock and balls. That will teach him to be such a whore.”

The boy lets out a deep moan, and his ass clenches tightly around his finger. 

“Look at that,” Dean says, his voice rough and aroused. “He’s coming.”

“That’s a prostate orgasm.”

“God, what am I to do with him? He can’t even get a medical exam without getting turned on and coming. And after I told him that his orgasms were mine.” Dean sounds stern, but his eyes are gleaming. 

“He can’t help it. He’s very sensitive.”

“He was born for this,” Dean says, and he doesn’t try to hide that he’s palming himself over his slacks. 

“Lucky you.” He withdraws, leaving the slave with his head resting on his folder hands, and shivering. “You could always try a cock-cage,” he says as he starts cleaning his hands. 

The boy looks up at that and, even though he can’t see his expression, Dean can and he doesn’t look pleased. “For that, you have earned a caning, Cas,” he promises, and he pushes Cas’ head down with his foot. “What kind of a cage would you recommend?”

“For such a needy whore? Who can come by the merest touch? If it were Adam, I would suggest something made of leather, perhaps a lace-up sheath, but for this slut? A proper chastity device, encasing all that naughty cock and balls, either from metal or plastic. After all, you’ll have to use it often, and so you’ll need something easy to clean.”

Dean nods, clearly making a mental note of this. 

When his hands are finally clean, he puts on another pair of gloves and shows Dean something else. “You mentioned keeping him nice and tight. There are different methods, and the best way is to have him train his inner muscles but until then....” After applying some lube, he carefully inserts the nozzle inside the slave’s ass. “The beauty of this is that, even though it looks like a butt-plug, it is really an enema nozzle.” The slave squirms and he slaps his ass one more time, putting more force than necessary just to see the raised redness of his skin. The slave lets out a small, almost mewling moan, and he slaps him again.

Dean also disapproves. “For this, you have earned a week in a cock-cage, Cas. So, Doc?”

“Since he is such a bad boy today, I’ll use cold water,” he says, as he takes a bag out of the fridge and then connects the tube leading out of the bag with the nozzle. “But, if you want my opinion, the colder, the better. No warm water for such a needy, desperate slut and his little hole. This will keep him tight.” 

The boy makes another plaintive sound. “It hurts,” he whispers, raising his head towards his master one more time.

“Of course it hurts,” Dean. “It’s for your own sake, Castiel. You have to be disciplined because your behavior today was unworthy of me. And I want my hole to be a tight hole.” 

“Yes, Master.” He hangs down his head again, moaning as quietly as he can.

Dean shakes his head. “I told him he wasn’t allowed to speak here.” 

“I have an idea.” He checks that the bag is almost empty, removes the tube and plugs the nozzle with another attachment. “The cold water enema is good for tightness, but since he’s been so disobedient today, how about a good ol’ fashioned spanking?” 

Dean’s eyes light up with interest.

“You can’t trust such a slut,” he says as he takes off his gloves and brings out a spreader bar. 

“He’ll probably start begging for it, or pushing back to get more stimulation the moment you start,” Dean says, still sounding aroused. 

“You said it,” he smiles as he arranges the slave to his liking. The bar has two sets of cuffs, two for the wrists and two for the ankles. For such a disobedient slave, the boy lets him move his limbs as he wishes, tying him up firmly but not harshly. This is for punishment, after all, not torture. Then he motions Dean to come near him.

Dean hums appreciatively. “I’m definitely buying one of those,” he says. “The metal looks really hard and unwieldy against his ass. And how red his tight, little hole looks all stretched and filled up.”

“And if you think he’s filled up now, wait for another thirty or forty minutes. Then you’ll see how much he can take.”

They both watch as the slave tries to breathe as deeply and slowly as possible. 

“He’s so pretty,” Dean whispers in awe. 

“His ass just begs to be touched, doesn’t it? And his head bows down so submissively. But we both know what he really wants, don’t we?”

Dean nods. 

He shows Dean a slim paddle and when Dean nods, he brings it down suddenly, hitting the slave right on top of the plug. The boy yelps, and Dean nods again. “This is for punishment,” another strike, “but for keeping him clean and tight,” he hits him again, “I would recommend using your hand.” He hits again. “That way, you can control the force better and, well, a paddle always hurts more than a palm,” he finishes, paddling the boy one more time.

Dean laughs, but the sound doesn’t drown out the pitiful sobs the slave is making after being paddled five times in quick succession. 

“Best is if you do this daily. After all, any good training is based on habit and constant repetition.” He strikes the boy one more time, judging that the sobs have subsided enough to warrant another hit, and then puts the paddle down.

“Now what?” 

“Now, you wait for the cramps to start. It takes longer with cold water, but it’s worth the wait. The slave’s ass will be as tight as ever when you’re done. And for best effect, you should paddle him then as well. There’s nothing like disciplining him when he’s aching and cramping, if you want to teach him that his ass is yours.”

Dean nods. “That makes sense.”

“While we wait, let’s have a look at what else you could get for him, shall we?”


	2. Chapter 2

The ride back is quiet. Cas sits silently beside Dean, his hand drawing random patterns on Dean’s thigh. It’s enough to tease Dean into half-hardness. “Look what you did,” he says as they stop at a red light and moves Cas’s hand over his cock. Cas looks down, and then at him, biting his lower lip. “What did I tell you? You are not allowed to make me hard when I’m driving. It’s dangerous.”

“I’m sorry, Master.”

He pushes Cas’s hand firmly over him. The soft, heavy pressure and the warmth from skin seep into him. His dick fills with blood under his slave’s hand. “You are insatiable. You want nothing but to stuffed, all the time.” He shakes his head, and when the light turns green he moves his hand back on the steering wheel. “Since you already did it, you might as well keep your hand there. It’s only five minutes, after all.” 

“Yes, Master.” Cas’s voice is soft, almost a whisper.

“Don’t think that you will not be punished for disobeying me.”

“I do not think that, Master.” Cas looks away from Dean, out of the window, but his hand is massaging Dean’s flesh gently and awkwardly. God, the boy needs so much training. Whatever had possessed him to buy a virgin slave, one who’d never been with a Master before? Oh, yes, his desire to be the first. He glances at Castiel, and wonders if the joke’s on him. But then again, his slave is pretty. Dean wants to be his first.

Once they are home, Dean waits until they are both inside and the door is closed. Castiel only looks at him for a moment before he takes off his shoes and falls to his knees, quickly remembering that he is not allowed to walk on two legs when they are in the house. Dean purses his lips. “You have already earned three punishments today, so I will let your delay in kneeling when inside slide.” He lifts up Castiel’s face and attaches the leash to his collar. The tight coil of nylon cord had been a heavy weight in his pocket but now it feels like air flowing through his hands as he holds it and guides Castiel to the living room. 

Dean settles in his armchair and turns on the TV while Castiel remains in a kneeling position by his side. “Take off your clothes,” he says as he adjusts himself. “In front of me, where I can see you. Are you stupid, boy? You’re here for my pleasure. You are not to hide from me, at any time.”

Castiel blushes very prettily as he takes off his shirt. Dean wants to keep him like that forever, aware that he is nothing but a sex toy, and embarrassed for his readiness to be taken. “Look at you, asking for it already. I can see it in the way your nipples harden, the way you caress yourself as you undress.” 

“I’ll take good care of you,” he continues as Castiel shimmies out of his trousers. It’s a slow process as he’s not allowed to stand up, but it’s worth it. Inch after inch of creamy skin is slowly revealed for Dean’s inspection. 

He ignores the TV as Castiel folds his clothes neatly one on top of the other, his serious blue-and-gray striped socks on top, and then sits up, presenting himself. Doc had given him a plastic cock-cage to put on Cas and Dean frowns. Even though he can appreciate the practicality of the design, with a plain ring holding Cas’s balls trapped between his body and the curving cock-sheath, locked with a simple, utilitarian padlock, he finds it ugly. “I’ll buy you a better one next week,” he says, pulling the leash and patting his legs once. 

Cas obeys him immediately, rising up so he sit on Dean’s lap. Dean shifts him so the boy sits facing him, unable to hide how he’s still flushed, or the shame that darkens his eyes. Dean rubs him a little on the back, but soon after, his hands find purchase on Cas’s waist. 

“Tell me, how did it feel getting that enema? In detail.”

Castiel looks at him. His eyes are extraordinarily blue at such a distance, wide open and full of innocence. “It hurt.” Castiel swallows. “At first it was just uncomfortable, just feeling... full and cold, I guess, but then, it was like something was stabbing me from the inside. It would stop for a bit, and then start again, this feeling of pressure and pain. I couldn’t sit still, but I knew I had to, because I wanted to be good for Master.” He looks at Dean unblinkingly, trying to tell him with his eyes just how good he wants to be for him.

“How did I tell you that you have to address yourself?”

Cas pales. “Your slave? Master?”

“If you keep forgetting the simplest rules, how will I ever continue with your training? I’ll think of a suitable punishment later.” He slides down his hands, feeling the firm, soft cheeks of Cas’s ass until he reaches his hole. “You want to be fucked, don’t you, Castiel?”

“Yes, Master.” Castiel’s voice is a strangled moan and when Dean presses his index finger inside Cas’s tight hole, the boy shivers against him, and lowers his head on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean moves his finger back, and teases the rim. Castiel pushes back seeking more friction, like the little slut that he is. “Look at me, Castiel.”

Castiel obeys. 

“I’ll fuck this hole when this slave is properly trained, but not before.” He pushes inside the slave again, and Castiel’s flesh pulses hot against his finger. The slave draws a deep breath. “Eyes open, Cas.”

“Yes, Master.”

“I want you to take three cold enemas a day from now on. One in the morning before I wake up, one in the afternoon before I come back from work, and one in the evening, before I go to bed. I want my hole to be clean for me at all times. Once a week, I will follow the doctor’s instructions and either spank or paddle you. If you fail at your training, I will do it more often.”

Castiel whimpers and Dean can’t stop pressing against that soft wall of flesh until his finger is as deep as it can go. “Yes, Master.”

“Good.” He takes out his finger and presses it against Castiel’s lips. The slave opens his mouth immediately and licks it thoroughly. “Good, good boy.” When Dean is happy, he pushes Castiel down and opens his trousers. He doesn’t have to order Castiel; the slave settles between his legs and takes the tip of Dean’s cock into his mouth. 

“You’ve been wanting this all day, haven’t you, slut?”

Castiel takes him deeper in answer. 

“Good boy. Seal your mouth nice and tight around my dick. Now suck me properly.”


	3. Chapter 3

After Castiel has finished sucking off Master Dean, Master Dean leads him to the kitchen and makes him kneel at the corner. This is Castiel’s place until Master Dean judges him worthy of sleeping by his bed. At least Master Dean has chosen a soft rug for him, and he is allowed use of up to two blankets at night. Castiel is content. 

“Hands behind your back,” Master Dean commands and Castiel obeys. He feels something cold and hard around his wrists and a moment later he hears the cuffs snap shut. “I’ll buy proper arm restraints soon, but for now,” Master Dean says, trailing a finger along his left arm, “this will do.” 

Master Dean’s hand rests on Castiel’s shoulder for a while, warm, slightly rough, grounding. Then he wraps his hand around Castiel’s neck and pushes his head back and upwards, so that Castiel has no option but to look up. Straight at the blackboard. When he sighs, Master Dean tightens his hold a little and Castiel can’t look away.

The Blackboard is large, more than three feet tall and nine feet wide, and is divided in three parts. In the middle there are the Rules. These are the first things Master Dean told him when he brought him into His house. Master Dean dictated them and Castiel wrote them down in large, neat letters so that he will learn them better. On the left are the Punishments. On the right, the Rewards. But it’s been three days since Master Dean bought him, and the Rewards side is empty. The other, though... He sighs again.

Master Dean sighs as well, obviously disappointed with Castiel’s performance. He lets him go and, taking up a marker, starts writing under the Punishments line. ‘1. From Friday to Friday: cock-cage. 2. Caning – 10 strokes. 3.’ Dean stops and looks at him. “What should the third punishment be, Castiel?” He clearly doesn’t wait for an answer, turns back and writes with determination. ‘3. From Friday to Friday: no clothes inside the house.’ Master Dean turns around, looking pleased with himself. 

Castiel looks down at the transparent plastic that traps his soft genitals. No clothes means that anyone who comes into the house will immediately see that he is an unworthy and disobedient slave. 

“Look at me, Castiel,” Master Dean tells him. His voice is calm, and Castiel wants to promise that he will be good for Master Dean, because Master Dean is a kind Master, who sets rules and follows them. But he can only look up, and feel strange. Looking at Master Dean makes something hot and achy twist inside Castiel, hurting him like his insides when he had to retain water, only worse. But he’s such a worthless slave; how could Master Dean want him?

“Read out the Rules, Castiel.”

“One. Sex slave will refer to his owner as ‘Master’ at all times. Two. Sex slave will obey every command by the Master. Three. Sex slave will not speak unless directly asked, or permitted to do so. Four. Sex slave will address himself as ‘your slave’ or ‘the Master’s slave’ when asked by others. Five. Sex slave will not stand inside the house unless otherwise permitted. Six. Sex slave will not use the furniture. Seven. Sex slave will keep fit and healthy for Master’s pleasure.”

Dean nods. “Get up.”

He does, and is surprised when Master Dean releases his hands.

“Two more rules, Castiel, even though you are clearly unable to learn even these few first, basic rules.” Master Dean gives him the marker. “Write. Eight. Sex slave’s body belongs to the Master. Nine. Sex slave will be subjected to punishment when the Rules are broken.” Master Dean makes a soft, disapproving noise. “I thought I wouldn’t have to spell things out for you, but obviously, I was wrong.”

“I’m sorry, Master.”

Master Dean stares at him. “And you just broke Rule Number Three. Again.” He takes the marker from Castiel’s suddenly frozen fingers and writes down under the Punishments section. ‘4. Friday to Friday, sleep in the cage.’

Castiel whimpers. Not the cage. He’s only been here for three days, how did he mess up so much that he deserves the cage? 

Master Dean places a finger on Castiel’s mouth. “This is for your own good, Castiel. For your own improvement as a sex slave.” He gently, but firmly, tugs at the leash and leads Castiel back to his corner. Then he makes him turn around and face the Blackboard. “Now, until it is time to go to sleep, think of the Rules. Think of how you broke them because you are lustful and disobedient. Think carefully that you must be trained to reach your full potential as a sex slave, and that I am doing this for you, Castiel, not my own pleasure.” 

Master Dean’s eyes darken as he leans down and kisses Castiel hungrily. Castiel’s lips part under the ministrations of that skilful, forceful tongue, but he knows that even if Master Dean were not skilled, he would still open his mouth for him. The thought of opening his whole body for Master Dean sends another spike of heat through his belly, and his cock tries to rise, but fails, trapped and pained. Castiel moans.

Master Dean moans back. “This is my pleasure,” he whispers against Castiel’s lips, mouthing hot words on soft flesh. Castiel tries to follow Master Dean as he pulls back, but Master Dean laughs, and pushes him down to his knees. “Stay, Castiel. Think. Learn.”

Castiel stares ahead, looking at letters that lose their meaning the more he looks, and turn into abstract designs that still spell out three things: nine Rules, four Punishments, no Rewards. Why is he so useless? Wasn’t he trained from birth to obey His Master? Wasn’t he told time and time again that a sex slave’s true worth is in fulfilling His Master’s needs, so that the Master can remain a good and honest man, an upstanding citizen, a man who will not act with violence or rage or lust against another citizen, since the slave will be there for Him? So, now that he too has a Master (and one so kind and disciplined and handsome at that), why can’t he behave?

The words and the numbers become blurry as his eyes water but he still can’t look away from the Blackboard. He wants to be good, he wants it so much.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean usually gets up at seven-thirty, gets serviced by his slave boy, has a quick shower, drinks a cup of coffee and rushes off to work. For some reason, he’s up earlier this morning, and stretches himself. It is tempting to stay in bed, but he’s also curious to see what his slave will do. So, he gets up and goes downstairs to the basement. 

It seems he’s just in time to see Castiel open the door of the cage exactly as Dean showed him, and shimmy out of it. The slave whimpers as he moves and Dean feels a little bad about it. The cage is small, and Castiel had to sleep in a kneeling position, unable to move his hands or head. It doesn’t matter that the cage is padded and its floor perhaps the softest, cushiest surface in the house. Still, he has to punish Cas if he wants to train him. 

When Castiel gets out of the cage he lies down on the floor and starts stretching himself. His whimpers turn to pleased little sounds, and Dean smiles. He wants to train Cas, not break him. And he’s also amused by how Cas interprets the ‘no standing up’ rule. Surely the slave must know that it means that he must keep himself in a respectful kneeling position, instead Castiel moves this way and that, first sitting cross-legged and stretching his arms left and right, then lying down on his stomach, and lifting his upper body up, then kneeling and moving his pelvis up and down. Castiel is full of grace and Dean makes a mental note to allow him to exercise properly from next week. 

But what turns his smile into a grin is seeing Castiel crawl towards the bathroom area of the basement once he has finished stretching. ‘Bathroom area’ is perhaps an exaggeration; there’s just a hole in the floor so that the slave can relieve himself, and a sink with only cold running water for washing. When Dean wanted to punish Adam, he would make him clean himself there; Adam loved taking hour-long baths and hot showers, so it was a particularly cruel punishment. But he doesn’t know yet if this will be a good punishment for Castiel. 

So, he makes himself comfortable while Castiel takes out a bag of water from the small fridge at the side and inspects the objects laid out for his use. He sits down when Castiel prepares them and waits for the main show. For some reason, Castiel prefers to stare at the wall so his back is turned towards Dean. Not that he minds. This way he can see Castiel finger himself, and then slowly insert the butt-plug/nozzle inside him. He lets Castiel fill himself up, take out the tube, exactly like Doc showed him, waits for five minutes and when Castiel lies down on his side, holding himself still, he stands up and walks noisily down.

Castiel’s reaction when he hears him is immediate. He kneels up, turns around, and then prostrates himself. “Good morning, Master Dean,” he says in a sleep-rough voice. 

“Morning.” His own voice isn’t any better. “Come here.”

Castiel nods, starts, stops, takes a deep breath and starts again. 

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes, Master.”

Dean sits down on his chair. “Kneel across my lap, Castiel. Time for your spanking.”

Castiel shivers. He lowers himself over Dean’s legs, and grasps the chair’s legs. Dean can’t resist pushing the plug a little further inside, making Castiel moan. “You keep forgetting the ‘no speaking until permitted’ rule.” The first slap is on Castiel’s right buttock and it brings forth another whimper. “I haven’t even had my coffee yet, Cas. Stop moaning.”  
The left buttock is next and this time Castiel bites back his cry. “That’s better.” He looks and decides to continue slapping the slave’s buttocks for a little longer. The first two slaps have only brought up a pale red color. There’s room for improvement. Six slaps later Dean has found his rhythm and realises that this is a good substitute for coffee. Castiel jerks forward with each smack, and at the tenth slap, he starts crying out. 

“Does it hurt?”

“My tummy hurts more,” Castiel says, and Dean grabs his slave’s hair and twists his head up so he can see his face. Castiel is pale, and sweating, his lips trembling.

“Good,” he replies, letting Castiel’s head drop. “It’s punishment; it must hurt.” The next slaps fall directly on the base of the plug and Castiel shrieks and shakes. “The more you scream, the more I must hit you. Your pain tolerance is far too low for a sex slave.” The truth is that Castiel shuddering and squirming across his legs is like having a personal massage machine. The tremors travel from his thighs to his groin and make his cock hard as a rock, and they don’t stop even when Castiel tries again to stop crying. 

At thirty Dean stops. Castiel’s ass is bright red, his hole redder, and Castiel sounds like he’s dying. Why is he showing such restrain when all he wants is to unplug the slave himself anf fuck him, mess be damned? “Go empty yourself.” 

“Thank you, Master.” Castiel doesn’t look at him as he hurries to the ‘toilet’, whimpering as he moves. 

“When you are done, come upstairs.” His dick is so heavy he thinks that he’s moving as awkwardly as his slave. But because he’s the Master, he will not diminish himself into masturbating. 

He smells the coffee as he goes up, and for a moment that is a distraction. He pours himself a cup, keeps his hands on the table and waits for Castiel. When his slave is finally up, Dean takes out his dick. “Suck on this.”

Castiel kneels between his legs and takes less than half his dick into his mouth. His tongue is flat beneath the shaft, unmoving. It shouldn’t be enough, but Dean has gone from morning wood to half-hard to rock hardness in less than an hour and hasn’t found any release yet. The slight suction is all it takes for Dean to explode, hands holding Castiel still so that he will take every drop. He shudders, and thinks that it will be fun waiting to fuck his slave. 

“Look at me, Castiel.”

There’s cum dribbling from Castiel’s mouth and Dean pushes it back inside. Castiel kisses his fingers before he licks them and his wet eyelashes and bright eyes make him look even more devoted to Dean. If he didn’t have to go to work, he’d be ready for another round soon. 

Dean smiles, and plays with Castiel’s soft hair. “You are a good cock-warmer, Castiel, and you are learning your place, but,” he tightens his hold a little, “you need to work on your cock-sucking skills. So, while I’m away at work, I want you to practice deep-throating. You may start with one of the smaller dildos.” He caresses the slave’s soft cheek, feeling the outline of his dick. It is tempting to stroke himself like that, so he does it for a while. It’s warm inside Castiel’s soft mouth, it feels like he’s covered with a pillow and he’s teasing himself over it. But Castiel keeps staring at him, and Dean can’t read him at all. Adam had been like a puppy, playful, devoted and open. Castiel is nothing like that. He stares and stares, but it’s like facing a wall. Perhaps the slave’s a bit simple. A bit slow. He doesn’t know yet, and after a while, he goes back to his coffee.


	5. Chapter 5

Castiel waits until Master Dean is on His way to work before he goes to find a suitable toy for his practice. Master Dean said he can start from a small one, so he first chooses one that is three inches long and only an inch thick. But perhaps that is too small; after all, Master Dean plugged his ass with a four-inch long dildo, so it is only right that he finds something similar. 

When he is happy with his selection, he puts it on top of His Master’s chair, and kneels in front of it. He tells himself it’s because he wants to show it proper respect, since His Master ordered him to use it, but he knows it’s because his butt burns and aches. He can’t possibly sit on it. 

The toy has no flavor or scent. It is neither cold nor warm. Unlike Master Dean’s cock, it does not pulse with life. It does not smell heady, like sweat, sex, cotton, and soap. It does not feel soft and hard at the same time, a maddening sensation. It is unpleasant and sterile. But he slides it inside his mouth dutifully, remembering that he must use his tongue and tries to take as much as he can. 

When he feels like gagging he takes it out. Then he starts again, finding that the more he licks, the easier it somehow is to swallow more of it. But he manages to take only a couple of inches before he feels like gagging. So, he takes it out and tries again. 

At School, they didn’t teach him that. They taught him that a sex slave is a blank slate on which the Master writes His Will. That he must obey and do as His Master wishes. But because each Master has different wishes and needs, each slave can only be properly trained by His Master – or an appointed instructor – and Master Dean chose to teach him Himself. It is a great honor and so Castiel keeps trying.

A noise upstairs makes him stop. A glance at the clock tells him that it is too early for Master Dean to be back. He could be quiet, and lock himself in the basement, wait until whatever is happening upstairs goes away. Or, he can go check what is going on. In the end, his curiosity wins out. 

When he peeks inside the living room, there is no one. But there are noises coming from the kitchen so he goes there, and feels foolish for his fear. It’s just a woman, blonde, young, pretty, dressed in a dark blue uniform, busy putting the plates away. 

When she turns around, she takes a step back, startled. Then she looks him up and down, and Castiel hides behind the doorjamb. 

“Hi,” she says with a friendly smile. “I’m Magda. In charge of cleaning and cooking.”

He nods. 

“So, you’re the new slave, right?” She points at the Blackboard. “Dean told me you’d be here, but I see that he forgot to tell you about me.” She snorts. “Typical. Anyway, I come here twice a week, to cook and clean. This is your place?” She points at the mat at the corner.

He nods again. 

“Well, I need to clean in here so you can’t come in until I’m done. Alright?” She’s still smiling, but her tone is strict. “After I finish with here and upstairs I’ll go clean the basement. You can come back to the kitchen then.”

Castiel can only nod. Madga smiles. “Aren’t you sweet? And quiet?” She laughs. “Time to go back to work now.” She turns her back on him and opens the cabinet with the cleaning products.

At least that answers one of Castiel’s questions. When Master Dean had brought him into the house, he hadn’t seen any other slaves. He’d wondered when Master Dean would assign him the household chores but hadn’t dared to ask. It makes him feel even more motivated to do well for His Master. 

Perhaps if he watches some of the films that Master Dean has left for his training? He goes back to the basement, and puts on a DVD labelled ‘Oral’. He has seen such films before, but had never watched them properly. 

It is difficult, though. Not because he can’t swallow as much as the men in the film, although that makes him feel ashamed too. He tries to mimic them, but his rhythm is off, or he’s too slow, and he definitely can’t deep-throat even the smallest dildo in Master Dean’s collection. No, the real difficulty is that watching those slaves suck makes him hard. And he can’t stay hard, not while his cock is trapped. 

By lunch-time, he’s looking forward to the afternoon enema. At least the pain from that will stop him from getting hard.


	6. Chapter 6

“Next time I get a sex slave, I’m getting him on a Friday,” Dean grumbles to his brother. 

Sam laughs. “If you wanted, you could have gone straight back home from work tonight, instead of hanging out with me.”

“What? And miss our weekly game?” He claps his brother on the shoulder, grinning. “Now, pay up, bitch.”

Sam grimaces. “Next time, we’re playing for cheetos,” he says as he forks out the fifty he lost. 

“Not in my bar,” Ellen chastises them from behind the counter. “Unless you’ll be cleaning up your mess afterwards.” She shakes her head, disappointment evident in her expression, “You won’t be able to keep your hands away from them and five-year-olds have better manners than you.”

“But you love us anyway?”

Ellen glares at Dean. “Get out of here, you.”

Sam hides his smile behind his huge face, and Jo smirks. 

“Yes, I should be going. Here.” He gives Sam back his money. “Next time buy me dinner.”

“You got it.”

Dean smiles as he walks out of the Roadhouse. Next time, Dean will let Sam win, and Sam will pretend to take his money for five minutes, and then give it back. It’s what they do. They’re kidding when they play for money. 

But he wasn’t kidding when he’d said that next time, he’ll get a slave on a Friday. Because he’d taken three days off work to get Cas settled in, make sure his papers were in order, he was registered with the doctor and all that, he’d then had to work on Saturday. Then it was Sunday, and Sam and he always went to watch a game on Sunday, followed up by dinner and drinks, and then it was back to work all week. He’s just had enough time to discipline Castiel and spank his pert, little bottom twice, and check his progress at deep-throating.

But it’s not just for him. Having a slave is a responsibility and Dean feels he’s been remiss in his duties as a Master. He ought to have shown the boy a little pleasure too, so that he will be motivated to perform better. Oh, well, he will start rectifying this from the moment he goes back.

The drive home feels both longer and shorter than usual. Thoughts of all the things he can do during the weekend are enough to make him half-hard. He doesn’t even have specific ideas; just the image of Castiel’s lithe body, his full lips and big eyes are enough to trigger his desire. 

“Honey, I’m home,” he says playfully when he’s finally back. The silence is a good sign; Castiel has gotten better at not speaking unless ordered. 

When he goes inside the living room, he finds Castiel exactly where he wants him: prostrate by his armchair. He bypasses him, goes into the kitchen to get another beer, and then sinks down on the chair. “So how was your day?”

“Long, without the Master,” Castiel says as he unfolds himself from the floor and shifts into kneeling, arms behind his back. Even though he is not on display posture, he is still showing off: the long line of his throat continues unbroken down his chest, leading the gaze directly to that plain piece of transparent plastic that keeps his cock caged. He ought to buy him something better – something black, or blue perhaps, something that’s both ornamental and functional. 

“Are you reproaching me?”

“Just stating a fact, Master.” Castiel does not just look and sound honest; he looks innocent, he sounds truthful. 

He decides to believe him. “So, what did you do all day?” he rephrases his question.

“Your slave practiced his cock-sucking skills.” He still blushes when he says ‘cock’, and it is still endearing. “May your slave show you, Master Dean?” Castiel shuffles just a little bit forward, staring up with guileless interest. 

He spreads his legs, and Castiel slides until he is settled between them. He looks at him for a moment, licks his lips, and then lowers his head. Dean groans. He has no idea how the boy learned to unbuckle his belt with his mouth, but he will not complain. Nor does he complain when Castiel uses it to undo the buttons of his jeans. His slave naked, kneeling, hands behind his back is already hot to watch, but feeling his lips and tongue ghosting over his flesh as he unbuttons his jeans is even hotter. 

His dick springs out of his boxer briefs when Castiel finally releases him, pulsing at the same time as his heart. He follows the movement, hips jumping up for a second and Dean grasps the armchair rests and holds them tight. The urge to grab his slave’s head instead is huge, but he wants to see how far Castiel has progressed. He wants to see. 

Castiel looks up at him from under his long lashes. It’s only for two seconds and then he lowers his head and starts taking Dean’s cock inside him without slowing down. His head slides against Castiel’s tongue, and the slightly rough texture sends up spikes of pleasure along his shaft. Dean wishes he would lick it but Castiel doesn’t stop. Dean’s cock then feels bound by tight wetness, Castiel shudders and then his nose is suddenly at Dean’s groin, nuzzling and sniffing him. 

“Dear God, Cas. What do you do to me?” Castiel looks up. “No, don’t answer that.” Dean smiles, and ruffles his hair. “You’re such a good boy for me, aren’t you?”

Castiel bobs his head slightly in answer. He takes Dean all inside again, and then pulls back. It’s still insanely hot inside Castiel’s mouth. It may not be as tight as his throat, but Castiel remembers he has a tongue and he starts using it. He still has a thing for tracing patterns along the shaft, but now he’s learned to also slide it under the head and lick there insistently, until Dean feels like an over-sensitive cat, unable to get release until he has his mate sitting still and tight beneath him. 

“Cas, throat,” he mumbles and Castiel slides all the way down again. Dean holds Castiel with one hand on his nape, and one at the back of his head and thrusts inside him furiously. “Such a tight whore. You want this, don’t you, Cas? My big, fat cock chocking you. Fucking you hard, because you’re such a cock-slut. Aren’t you, Cas?”

Cas is moaning around his dick, saying ‘yes, yes, yes,’ huge eyes staring up and filled with tears. 

“Fuck, yes, Cas. Fuck, you’re such a slutty bitch. Fuck.” Dean closes his eyes and shudders as he comes, holding Cas in place so that the slave has no option but to swallow all his Master gives him. His orgasm is powerful, ripping through him, and leaving him calm on its aftermath. They are connected by something more than money; Castiel takes him and Dean has him. 

When he releases Cas, the slave coughs, shudders and looks up. “Is Master happy with your slave?” His voice is wrecked. 

Dean nods, and notices that Cas doesn’t look as happy as before. Oh. “Come here,” he says, patting his thigh. Castiel stands and sits gingerly on his lap. 

“You’ve been a good slave this week, Castiel. So,” he takes out the padlock key from his key-chain and unlocks the cage. “You deserve this, Castiel,” he says as he takes it off slowly.

Castiel shudders, relieved. “Your slave will try harder to please Master Dean,” he says when he is completely free. He makes to touch himself, but Dean catches his wrist. 

“Your body belongs to me, Castiel,” he tells him seriously, and watches as Castiel finally displays some emotions he can read: shock, regret, fear. “Don’t worry. I will take care of you,” he says, touching Castiel’s cock for the first time since he bought him. It’s silky smooth, fits easily into his palm, and under Dean’s careful and gentle strokes, it starts filling with blood, hardening. “When you are good, you will be rewarded. When you are bad... well, you saw what happens when you are bad.”

Castiel nods. “Yes, Master.”

“Good boy.” He smiles and stops. “Stand up.”

When Castiel is up, Dean turns him around and lowers him over his knee. “This is the seven-inch, right, Castiel?” He asks as if he hadn’t chosen it that same morning, and pushed it inside Castiel.

“Yes, Master.”

He presses against the base of the plug, and Castiel moans. “Such a slut for it.” He pulls the toy out a little and twists it back inside just to make Cas squirm. “You were made for this, Cas. Made to be plugged and filled and fucked.”

Cas shudders. His cock presses against Dean’s leg, excited, and Cas nuzzles Dean’s side, with a soft, needy sound. 

“Don’t worry, Cas, I know exactly what you need.” He smiles, knowing even without seeing that Cas is probably blushing enough to put fire on the chair with his embarrassment. “You love this so much, you little slut,” he continues as he starts moving the plug back and forth. The lower, fat part spreads out his hole nicely when Dean slides it, and every push and pull draws out a new sound from Cas, a gasp, a moan, a muffled cry. His cock stays hard throughout, a hot, pulsing, silky weight against him. “Tell me, will you behave from now on?” he asks as he pushes the plug inside with a violent thrust.

“Yes, Master Dean,” Cas breaths out.

“Really?” 

“Yes, oh, yes, Master. Yes.” 

Dean pulls the toy out just as violently and, grabbing Cas’ hips, tosses him around. Cas blinks, eyes full of arousal and surprise. His cock is flushed, the head red, the veins standing out. Dean takes him in his hand and strokes him exactly as he likes to be touched: hard and fast and with enough pressure to be almost-painful. “You can touch me, Cas.”

Castiel probably needs more training than Dean originally thought, because he doesn’t go for Dean’s dick, but instead goes for Dean’s arms. He presses his hands around Dean’s biceps and holds him there, like he can’t decide if he wants to move closer to Dean or to keep him away. It’s only when he comes with a bitten off ‘Master’ that he decides that he wants to cling on to Dean, and presses his whole body against Dean’s, letting Dean feel every tremor and every breath he makes. 

“You’re such a slut,” Dean tells him affectionately, deciding that hugging Castiel back is not bad after all. “You’re lucky I like it. But,” he says sternly and pushing Castiel back, “you just dirtied my clothes with your dirty, filthy cum.”

Castiel looks down, at the strings of white that are now strewn on Dean’s shirt. “I’m sorry, Master,” he sighs. 

“For that, even though I was planning on fucking you this weekend, I will fuck you later.” Castiel looks dejected. Dean can’t help but smile, and trace the slave’s lips with his thumb. “Don’t worry, Castiel. I will train you into a well-behaved slut.” And because he is in a good mood, he pulls Castiel against him. “And I will fuck you this coming week,” he whispers into the slave’s ear. “You want Master’s cock, don’t you?”

“Yes, Master,” Cas says earnestly.

“But first, I’ll have to punish you.” He bites the soft earlobe and worries it with his teeth. Castiel flinches and when Dean’s had enough of his twitching, he pushes him back down on the floor. “I’m tired today, but tomorrow morning, I’ll let you know your punishment.”

“Yes, Master Dean.”


	7. Chapter 7

Castiel doesn’t know what’s worse: waiting to be punished, or waiting to find out what his punishment will be. What he knows is that, even though the Master is the one who sets the Rules, the Master keeps changing them. Or adding to them, as the case may be. If he had known from the start that Master Dean would not like Castiel’s filthy dirty sperm, then he wouldn’t have let himself touch Master Dean. Or, if Master Dean did not want that, then why did He give him permission to touch? It is very confusing, and makes pleasing Master Dean even more difficult than he thought.

Still, it had been nice to be touched by Master Dean. Much better than when the doctor at School touched him to make sure he was healthy and responsive. Much, much better than when the doctor, Master Dean’s friend, fingered him. Master Dean has warm hands, a bit rough, but still kind. They are unlike Castiel’s hands that are soft and need training. He likes Master Dean’s hands on him.

Just the thought makes him hard. But his body is the Master’s, so he puts his hands behind his back to avoid the temptation to touch himself. He studies the Blackboard with the Rules, and waits either for Master Dean to come down, or for his erection to wilt. Whichever happens first.  
Master Dean does not make him wait long. “You’re up, I see.” He smirks. “In more ways than one. Hehe.” Master Dean shows him the leash. “Time to go downstairs, Castiel.”

He glances at the Blackboard.

Master Dean doesn’t miss anything. “I don’t need to write down your punishment when I’m about to punish you.” He fastens the leash on one of the rings of his collar. “The Blackboard is for when the punishment may be on a different day from the day that you incurred punishment.”

Master Dean changes the Rules again, but it’s not his place to question His Master’s Will. He follows obediently.

“Walk in front of me,” He says.

It is against what he has been taught, but he does it. 

“Yes, that’s it,” Master Dean whispers, and Castiel picks up lust in His Master’s voice. He caused this, and he feels something. Not pride; he’s not allowed to be proud. But then he’s in front of the basement door and walking down the stairs on all fours is difficult and demands all his concentration.

“Damn,” Master Dean sighs behind him. “Fuck. You slut.” Master Dean keeps quiet while Castiel crawls down, but when they are finally in the basement, he clears his throat. “Stay there.”

Castiel wants to look up and follow Master Dean with his eyes, in the hope of getting some idea of his coming punishment but this is not the behavior of a well-trained slave. And even if he isn’t as well-trained as he ought to be, he still wants to avoid the cage as much as possible. Both the big one for sleeping, and the small one for his penis. So he tightens his fists and keeps his eyes low, while the noises drive him mad with curiosity, and a little fear. 

“Alright,” Master Dean murmurs, sounding content. “Turn around.” 

The first thing he sees is Master Dean. The second is that there is a mattress on the floor, covered with a plastic sheet. Then he sees the cuffs.

“Lie down.”

The sheet is cold and he hopes this is also part of the punishment. 

Master Dean sits at the top of the bed, watching him. “Hands.”

He gives them with trepidation. Master Dean pulls his arms back, ties leather cuffs around his wrists, and then fastens them together. “Comfortable?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Enjoy it. It won’t last.”

Master Dean secures his bound hands at something behind him. Even though Castiel shifts a little, his vision is obstructed by the mattress. He then produces a spreader bar from behind the bed. He shows it proudly for a moment, reminding Castiel of the magic tricks an older slave used to perform at the School. Only this is no trick, and Castiel doesn’t have to wait long before Master Dean spreads his legs open and secures his ankles on the bar. Then He stands up, and studies him.

As usual, his body reacts to His Master’s gaze. Even getting ready to be punished, he can’t help but feel arousal. Master Dean looks more powerful from where Castiel is lying, and he feels more fragile and vulnerable. He feels scared, and excited. 

“You are hopeless,” Master Dean smirks, and presses his foot against Castiel’s balls. It doesn’t hurt much at first, but as Master Dean keeps pressing, he can’t help trying to twist away, biting his lips so that he will not cry. “Keep this up and I’ll punish you tomorrow as well.” He suddenly smiles, and takes out His cock. “If you hold still during your punishment, I will let you suck on my dick.” Master Dean caresses Himself, and Castiel wishes it was him touching Him. “You want this, don’t you, you little, dirty whore? Answer me.”

“Yes, Master. Your slave...”

“Say it. Say that you want my dick.”

“Your slave wants Master’s dick.”

“Beg me for it.”

“Please, Master, may your slave suck Master’s dick? Please? Please, feed your slave Master’s dick. Please, let your slave suck and lick and...” He imagines Master Dean’s cock sliding inside his mouth, warm and pulsing and heavy and he wants it so much, he can’t stand it. His hips move against his own volition, rubbing his crotch against His Master’s foot. “Your slave craves for it.”

“Damn,” Master Dean swallows and presses hard against his balls.

Castiel groans, the pain sudden and fierce. But he keeps as still as he can. “Please?” he continues, “your slave needs it.” He needs it so badly. 

“You’re so easy,” Master Dean laughs and leaves him alone. 

Castiel slumps down. “Please,” he whispers, closing his eyes. 

“Don’t worry. I’m not finished with you.” 

When Master Dean is back he’s holding a tray in his hands. He sits down, and smoothes away the hair from Castiel’s forehead. “As I said, if you try to avoid my punishment by flinching or twisting away, I will punish you tomorrow for your disobedience. Now, do you want a gag?”

Castiel feels something cold at the back of his neck. 

“It’s okay if you do,” Dean says in a soothing voice, “but if you try to be quiet for me, then I will give you a reward for your good behavior. So, what’s it gonna be?”

He’s willing to suffer anything for a reward from Master Dean. “No gag,” he says, surprised his voice has come out steady.

“Good slave,” Master Dean praises him. He caresses his face, and Castiel leans into the touch. Master Dean shivers and swallows. “Good slave,” he whispers, puts down the tray and takes out a clothespin. “Fifty of these. Ten here,” Dean traces a line along his chest slightly beneath his left nipple, “Ten here,” another line, parallel to the first, “Ten here,” along his left inner thigh, and “Then here.” 

Which leaves ten for where? 

Dean’s smile is devious. “The last ten will be a surprise.”

He nods and takes a deep breath to calm himself. He hates clothespins and clamps and pain. He had no idea how much when he was at School, but now he does. How does Master Dean know so much about him already? 

The first one hurts, and he gasps. So does the second and the third, and by the fourth he’s groaning. The worst part is always when Master Dean attaches the pin onto his flesh, causing a sharp and sudden pain that jolts him up. It doesn’t get any better, even when he tells himself to relax and take it. 

“Are you sure you don’t want the gag?” Master Dean asks him sweetly after he puts the tenth.

Castiel shakes his head. He wants his reward. He will get it. Or suffer trying. He thinks of that. He thinks of warm, callused hands that know how to draw pleasure out of him, ignoring how the same hands are now making him gasp and groan and feel like he’s been pinned down and trapped in a world of pain. 

When Master Dean starts on his thighs, Castiel stops thinking of pleasure. He thinks how much worse it could have been. Master Dean could have used pins and needles on him, sharp and long and bloody. He could have used a paddle on him to strike his flesh where it’s most tender instead of clothespins. He could have made him take another ice-cold enema and spank him again, or worse, make him hold it for hours. It could have been worse. 

When Master Dean takes out the forty-first clothespin and clamps his left nipple with that it’s difficult to stay still. The pain is sharper there and it will only get worse. A moment later, clamps his right nipple, and Castiel he tells himself that it’s eight more. Eight more and it will stop aching so much. But then Master Dean When Master Dean touches his left testicle to hold it still and Castiel closes his eyes. He can’t hide from the pain that erupts when Dean pinches his skin, but he doesn’t have to look. He keeps his eyes shut all the way to the end, an end that comes unexpectedly and makes Castiel realise that he’d lost counting there. 

“Your tolerance for pain is low,” Master Dean says calmly, wiping Castiel’s tears with a finger. “We’ll have to work on that.”

“Yes, Master,” he manages.

Master Dean snorts. “How does it feel?”

“It hurts. It’s...” Castiel frowns as he tries to find the right way to explain, breathing deeply to calm himself so he can speak without sounding too hurt. “It’s the cumulative effect that hurts more than the pain of each one used. A sharp bit of pain to which one adds another bit and to these two, a third is added and so on.”

Master Dean nods. “That’s why this is a punishment.” He places his hand on Castiel’s shoulder and squeezes a little. “I promise not to use this many when playing with you.”

“Thank you, Master.”

When Master Dean smiles, His smile is brilliant. “That’s my boy.” He puts his hand in the tray and brings out a small candle. “One more thing, and I’ll let you free for today. But first, why are you being punished?”

“Because your slave dirtied Master’s clothes.”

Master Dean lights the candle, watches the flame for a couple of seconds and then tilts it. It only hurts for a bit, a hot sting that passes almost as quickly as it started. “Why are you being punished?”

“Because your slave was bad?”

Master Dean laughs and moves the candle slowly over his chest. The drops of hot wax that hall in quick succession hurt, but it’s still mild compared to the pain he’d felt earlier, and the way the clothespins still hurt. “Why are you being punished? If I have to ask again, I will have to punish you more, Castiel, and I really hate punishing you.”

“Because... your slave took liberties with Master?”

Master Dean laughs again. “You are so strange, did anyone ever tell you?” The wax drops approach his groin and Castiel is naturally apprehensive. “One more time, Castiel. Why are you being punished?”

“Because...” He has no idea anymore. It was because he came on Master Dean’s clothes, that’s what Master Dean had said. He did something that was not allowed. Why is he being punished if not for that?

“Because,” Master Dean tells him, lowering the candle and looking like the most beautiful of god’s angels in its light, “you,” a fat drop falls on the middle of his penis and he lets out a yelp, “are”, the next is higher up, “a”, and the third is very close to the head, and the fear makes Castiel tense more than the pain. Master Dean looks down, “dirty, nasty whore who only wants to cum and be filled with cum, and does not care about where this happens or how.” Each word is accompanied by a new wax drop, and each drop brings out a moan from him. It’s incredible how much such a tiny thing hurts, how the pain bursts from where the drops land to the rest of him.

Master Dean brings the candle close to his face. A couple of drops fall on his neck and jaw. He whimpers. “Your pleasure is mine. I will fill you up and make you cum, but you must behave.” He waves the candle over his lips, and the drops that fall there make him scream. Master Dean looks at him, shakes his head and blows the candle. “Punishment over, Castiel.”

Castiel blinks. He still hurts and there are fifty clothespins on him. It’s not over. When Master Dean starts taking off the little plastic, makeshift clamps he knows it’s not over. Taking them off hurts more than putting them. But he’s determined to show Master Dean that he is not weak, and he deserves his reward, so he tries to keep quiet as Master Dean works. 

Taking off the cold wax feels much better; like taking off a band-aid, perhaps. It’s much quicker too. Although, he likes the sensation Master Dean is causing as he scrapes the wax off. Not a tickle, not a caress, but somewhere in between. His moans are of relief, but that too counts as pleasure. 

But even though he is done, Master Dean does not release him from his restrains. Castiel looks up curiously. There is more? He wants to rub his arms and legs and stretch. He wants to have a shower and soothe every small piece of reddened skin with warm water. Can’t his training wait for a little while? 

“I promised you a reward,” Master Dean says.

Castiel doesn’t want anything else. He fixes his gaze on Master’s smiling face, and tries to be patient, to make his heart stop racing, and his cock responding. A reward from Master Dean. Yes, he’d settle for a warm bath, but His Master must have better ideas. Though what? Master keeps studying him, and his eyes seem unable to stop at a specific point. What does Master see? 

“Right,” Master Dean says, more to himself than Castiel, and grins, eyes fixed on Castiel. That’s the only hint Castiel gets for what Master Dean does next. He bends over and takes Castiel’s cock into His mouth. 

“Ah, Master.” It’s just too much. It’s like – it’s like nothing else, Castiel has nothing to compare this with. There is pressure and warmth and Master Dean’s tongue, insistently licking the underside of the head, and then moving up, to tease the sensitive slit at the top. He’s glad for the restraints, because the pleasure makes him want to move up, up, up, fly out of his skin and... Master Dean does something that ignites his body, that makes all the pain from earlier vanish under this white-hot current that travels through him, that makes him come, come INSIDE Master Dean’s mouth, and then lie limp and tired on the mattress, still tingling with pleasure. 

Lazily he looks up as Master Dean wipes his mouth and gives him another big grin. “However do you make me do such things before coffee?” Master Dean unties him and rubs Castiel’s limbs himself. “Let’s go up now, I need my coffee and,” he caresses Castiel’s lips, “my favorite cock-warmer to put his mouth where it belongs.”


	8. Chapter 8

The problem with teenagers is their refractory period. Hell, Dean remembers when he was Cas’s age; the slightest breeze would give him a hard-on, he could jerk off three or four times per hour, and on one memorable occasion he masturbated six times in one hour, took a break and then did it again. So, he’s not surprised when Castiel, free of the cage, can get hard randomly and often. 

That’s where the real problem starts. He’s not as young anymore; he’s not old but he definitely can’t keep up with Castiel. And, damn it, an aroused Castiel is irresistible, with his lust-blown eyes, his plush, kiss-swollen lips, and a certain glow about him that Dean’s unable to define. Dean can’t keep his hands off him. He has to touch him, and fondle him, and have him sit on his lap so he can touch him some more, instead of keeping him on the floor and on his knees where he belongs. He’d never had this problem with any of his past slaves. He was happy to watch show after show on TV while his slave kept his dick warm in his hot, tight mouth, but with Castiel, he’s happy enough to do that for thirty minutes, an hour at the most, but after that, he has to touch him, and that inevitably leads to him cuming, and there’s only so much juice he has in him. 

After Castiel makes him cum for the third time in two hours, he finds some minor flaw in the way Castiel sucks him off, and sends him down to the basement to continue practicing. Thank God the next day is a Sunday and he has plans because Castiel might prove the death of him – literally. 

This week it’s Sam’s turn to pick him up for the game. Dean pets Castiel’s hair and sends him to open the door when Sam finally arrives.

“May I suck you off, Sir?” Castiel’s voice sounds loud and clear.

“What the hell?” So does Sam’s voice, full of shocked outrage. “Dean?”

“Gotcha,” Dean grins as he goes to greet his brother. “So, what do you think of Cas?”

“Dean, you’re such an asshole.” Sam slams the door shut. He follows Dean into the living room, Castiel on his heels. “You know I’m not into guys.”

“Me neither,” Dean says.

“No, you’re into slaves,” Sam replies, laughing. 

“Want a beer?”

“No, but a glass of water would be great.”

“Your slave could get that,” Castiel offers timidly.

Dean ruffles Castiel’s hair. “No, you stay here and look pretty.” Cas lowers his head. 

“So,” Dean can hear Sam trying to start a discussion and failing. “You came to live with Dean when?”

“Twelve days ago, Sir.”

“And how do you find it here?”

He doesn’t hear an answer. When he comes back a moment later with Sam’s water, Castiel is still staring at the floor. “Sam,” he says as he gives him the glass. “I just need to give Cas his assignment for the day and we’ll go. Just wait here. Come, Castiel.”

Castiel follows him to the basement. “I’d suggest you use the toilet now,” Dean instructs him. “I’m not going to be back for at least six hours.” While Dean arranges things he hears Castiel peeing and then washing his hands. It’s a sound that makes him think of long journeys and stopping at rundown truck stops. What would it be like to take Cas on a road trip? But then he has everything where he wants it, and Sam is waiting upstairs. No time for wondering.

“Lie down, Castiel.”

When he is done, he almost wishes he didn’t have to go on the stupid game. Castiel looks good enough to eat spread-eagled and tied on that mattress, and Dean knows exactly from where he’d start: from his cock, that is now lying half-hard against his stomach. “Comfortable? There should be enough give in the ropes to move your hands and legs a little, when you want.” 

Castiel tries his bonds and then nods. 

“Good.” He takes an old-fashioned syringe filled with lube and presses the nozzle inside Castiel’s hole. Then he pushes the plunger until he can see the clear liquid slipping out. 

“Dean, what’s taking you so long?” Sam whines from upstairs.

“Gimme a moment, bitch. I’ll be there soon.” When he takes the nozzle out, Castiel’s hole twitches impatiently. “Little slut,” he murmurs as he takes the lube that’s sliding down Castiel’s ass and pushes it back inside, opening him up.

“Jerk. You could have told me to come later,” Sam shouts. 

“Maybe, but I love having a guy wait for me,” he says, winking and smiling at Cas.

Castiel stares, not getting it. 

“TMI, Dean,” Sam says, sounding a bit disgusted.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” When he is satisfied, he uncovers Castiel’s ‘assignment’, trying not to laugh at Castiel’s expression when he sees it. “Castiel,” he says gently, and immediately commands Castiel’s attention, “this is a fucking machine.”

Castiel’s expression says it clearly. ‘I know what that is, now get on with it.’ That makes him laugh. “Looking forward to that?”

“No. Your slave wants Master’s cock,” Castiel says with a hint of petulance.

“Naughty slave. Well, you can’t have Master’s cock until you can cum just from being penetrated. No touching, no fondling, no nothing. When you manage to cum just from being fucked, then I’ll know you’re worthy to take my cock.” He leans down, happy to see Castiel reach up for him, lips parted in invitation. “If you cum today, I’ll fuck you tonight,” he whispers, teasing Castiel by moving closer and then away. He starts the machine on his way out. “It’s set on random, so you won’t get bored. Have fun.”


	9. Chapter 9

Castiel does not get bored. He gets sore, and tired and seeing nothing but a life spent on his knees or his back ahead of him. A life that will probably be much shorter than anyone expects if he does not live up to Master Dean’s expectations. He’s not stupid. A slave is not for life; a slave is as good as the Master’s needs. Master Dean obviously likes his slaves young, so he bought Castiel. And when Castiel is older he will be sold to someone who prefers them in their twenties. And when he’s too old for his next Master, he will move on to the next, and the next and so on... At least that was the plan. 

Right now, he’s not so sure about it anymore. It’s been two days and he still can’t climax just by being penetrated. If the toy hit his prostate, then he could come, but the angle is wrong, and every time he thinks he’s figured out how to move so that the toy will do as Castiel wishes, the program changes. Damned random setting. 

What if Master Dean decides that he’s useless, and that he’s unable to provide His pleasure? Will Master Dean sell him to another? To be sold so soon after being acquired is far too shameful and will look bad on his record. Depending on Master Dean’s report on his performance he might even be demoted to public sex slave, and made to work in one of the brothels. 

Perhaps the reason he can’t climax is because he can’t stop thinking about what can happen to him if he fails in his obligations. Best case scenario if Master Dean sells him, is that he gives him a good report and sells him to another Master. But even that idea fills him with dread. When he first saw Master Dean he couldn’t believe his luck. His First Master was young, and handsome and smiling. Now? He still can’t believe how lucky he is. Master Dean may be inconsistent when it comes to Rules, but He’s taking His time to train him, and He’s handsome and He makes Castiel want Him so much. Castiel can’t believe that either; at School, he’d never liked any other slave or Instructor, so he was certain that when it came to performing his duties, he’d do it because it was his duty. Instead, he wants, he feels, he needs. 

He’s that stupid, he really is. 

As for that stupid machine, it is thrusting either too quickly, or too slowly, or too shallowly, and he can’t imagine Master Dean taking him like that. Master Dean fills him with wonder. He never knows what He’ll do, or how, and no machine, no matter how random the setting, can reproduce that – unpredictability that Master Dean makes him feel. 

Besides, the noise of the machine is driving him mad. That constant whirring sound, like an asthmatic train engine. He hates it. It’s too loud in the basement and Castiel could hear it ringing in his ears when he went to sleep. 

Perhaps if Master Dean were there to watch him, he might be able to do better. But Master Dean left him there for five hours on Sunday, and then proclaimed that Castiel was too tired and sore, and ought to rest, in the kitchen, alone, and as for today, Master Dean tied him up the moment he came back from work. It’s been three hours already.

It’s not his place to question His Master’s Will. But he wants to be good, and he wants His Master, and he can’t do either. And if Master Dean thinks him as useless and untrainable as Castiel suspects, then what will become of him? 

He ought to stop worrying and enjoy being penetrated. Just close his eyes, and imagine that Master Dean is there, licking his mouth open. Soft pressure and wetness, the gift of His hot breath. And Master Dean is still there, between his spread legs thrusting lazily while Castiel shifts his hips up trying to get Master Dean’s cock to hit his prostate. 

That noise. What if Master Dean was secretly a robot? A strong, powerful robot with two powerful ventilator shafts at the back and joints that haven’t been oiled recently. But He wants to have Castiel so badly that he doesn’t care that He ought to have visited the repair shop first and –

He’s losing it.


	10. Chapter 10

“Let’s try something different today,” Dean tells Castiel once they are in the basement. Castiel raises his head a little and Dean waits to see if the boy will look up – and earn a punishment – or remember to keep his eyes down. A moment later Castiel lowers his head again obediently. 

“I think that the reason you can’t come just from being fucked is because I’ve been lenient with you. You are a total slut who needs to be put in his place; when I’m making sure you’re comfortable, you relax and forget whom you belong to.” He opens the cupboard where he keeps the restraints and purposefully makes more noise than necessary when taking out the equipment he’ll need. From what he’s seen of Castiel, the slave is curious; hearing but not knowing what Dean does, will make him more pliant to Dean’s desire. “Still, I’m willing to give you another chance to prove yourself. But” He goes where Castiel is, grabs his hair and pulls his head up. “If you fail today, I will punish you.” 

Castiel makes a small noise. “But,” he mumbles.

Dean places his finger on Castiel’s lips. “You keep forgetting the basics and you still want to have my dick?” 

Castiel shivers. Then he nods, staring at Dean with resolve. Castiel looks so determined, so brave, like he’d do anything to have Dean’s cock inside him. Dean has never had a slave who looked so willing to take it. Has never had a slave look at him like he meant the world to him. Dean wants to kiss Castiel so badly he thinks his hands must be shaking. 

So, he drags Castiel over to the stockade and pushes him down. It’s the simplest model possible, with two parallel bars for securing the wrists and ankles, and one vertical in the middle to join them and support the neck restraint. Each of the bars looks from a different material, and that is because Dean had made it when he was sixteen. He had spent all his money buying his first slave, so he had to make some of the restraints himself. That had been one hell of a summer. But the toys are still with him, and their home-made appearance make his slaves realise that he means business. Castiel’s eyes widen almost comically when he sees the stockade. Dean grins.

Then he makes Castiel kneel on all fours, closes the cuffs around his ankles and wrists and finally secures his neck inside the collar. His slave looks pretty like that, his ass raised, his neck lowered, and Dean would like nothing more than to fuck him then and there, but that would undermine his position as Master. A Master must be firm, and resolute. When he promises punishment, he must go through with it, and not fuck his slave just because he’s sexy and obedient. “Open your mouth, Castiel,” he says firmly.

Castiel looks up and obeys. The slave’s lips are plush and pink, and when Castiel wets them nervously, they glisten. They’d look so much better covered in precum, and better yet with strings of cum dripping out of his mouth, but... “Damn it,” he sighs. He has to go to work; this is not the time to play. 

“Tongue,” he says, and when Castiel, frowning, sticks out his tongue, Dean places a clothespin on it. Castiel’s reaction is immediate, a jerk backwards that only shows him how trapped he is. “I hope that this will serve as a better reminder that you are allowed to speak only when I allow it, since you can’t remember it otherwise.”

Castiel whimpers. He’s still shaking. 

“Next time I’ll use hot wax too, Castiel,” he says and slaps him on the ass. “Be still.” He drags the fucking machine in place, lubes the dildo and presses the tip against Castiel’s hole. “You want this so badly, don’t you?”

Castiel shakes his head.

“No? What do you want?” Castiel’s ass is just so inviting, raised up and waiting, he decides to forgo the syringe this time. He pours some lube on his fingers, and presses one inside. 

Castiel pushes back against him, trying to get more. Dean hits him again, using the tips of his fingers to tap against the slave’s hole. Castiel makes a strange sound, like a cry he can’t express, moves away for a moment, and then offers his ass to Dean again. “Such a slut for it. Are you sure you don’t want this big, fat dildo up your ass?” He uses that for the next few minutes, rubbing it along the crack of Castiel’s ass, and hitting him with a bit more force occasionally. “I bet you do; you’re already hard, thinking about this toy fucking you, filling up like the horny slut that you are.” Castiel shakes his head again, and makes a strangled ‘no’ sound. “Of course you do,” he continues as he decides that enough is enough, and he presses the dildo inside Castiel. “Next time I’ll put a camera here so you can see exactly how easily your hole takes it, how nice and slick it is, how eager.” He pushes it well inside, securing the toy inside Castiel’s ass, and then starts the machine. “Damn, you know how hot you look taking that thing inside? Your hole is shining with lube, and spreading around the shaft.”

Castiel moans and pushes back. “That’s my slave slut,” Dean says, and can’t help but reach for the slave’s dick, stroking him in time with the dildo. Castiel hardens in his palm, his velvet soft skin showing him a core of steel. A bit like Castiel himself, pretty and soft looking, but able to take that, and so much more. “That’s my boy,” he mutters, and teases Castiel for one more second, and then he stands up, wipes his hand off the rest of the lube on Castiel’s hair and lifts his head. 

“I’ve put a camera here,” he says and Castiel looks where Dean is pointing. “This way, I can see what you’re doing.” Castiel’s eyes remain on the camera, there’s drool running down his chin from his open mouth, and whatever it is that Castiel thinks, makes him blush like this is the first time a man has ever seen him naked. “I might let my co-workers see you work that dildo in your ass,” he whispers and has all of Castiel’s attention. “Make them see how you wiggle so you can get fucked deeply and how you push back. Do you want me to show my friends what a slut I have here?”

Castiel stares at him, and Dean laughs. “Think about it, Cas. Think that I’m watching you. Show me that you’re worth to take my dick,” he says and is gratified to see Castiel’s eyes move down, and stare at his groin as if he can see through Dean’s trousers. “My little fuck pig,” he says, spreading around the drool on Castiel’s jaw.

An hour later, his words come back to haunt him. He did have a live feed from the basement camera to his computer, but he hadn’t intended to watch it. That was just an incentive for Castiel to perform better, and instead it has become an impediment to his own work. He checked it for a moment, to see how Castiel was doing, if he still had that clothespin in his mouth (and he should have remembered to take it out before leaving, who knows what having that thing for hours can do to a tongue), if he had managed to cum or not. Instead, he found himself relaxing first, seeing that Castiel had removed the clothespin on his own at some point, and then watching mesmerized as Castiel moved his body wantonly, meeting up each thrust of that toy, one moment arching his back like a spoiled cat begging to be petted, the next lowering his head in perfect submission, his whole body relaxing in his bonds. And every now and then Castiel would look up, straight at the camera with a hungry, pleading expression and then lower his head in despair. 

“Damn it,” Dean says, when he realises that an hour has gone by and he hasn’t done anything. “Fuck,” he mutters and is about to stand up, go to the bathroom and jerk off when Castiel shudders and then freezes, arching up, closing his eyes and his mouth open in a cry. He stays still like that for another moment or two, and then he moves again, rocking against the dildo and throwing his head back as much as he can, eyes still closed, mouth still drooling and looking thoroughly fucked and utterly fuckable. 

“Damn,” Dean mutters as he slips his hand inside his trousers without bothering unbuttoning them, slides beneath briefs that feel exceedingly tight and presses the base of his cock ruthlessly. What the fuck is Cas doing to him? He takes a few deep breaths, and tries not to watch at the screen where Castiel is relaxed and limp in the stockade and lets the dildo fuck him well and deeply. 

When he’s certain that he won’t sound like a pervert, he picks up the phone. “Hey, Madga,” he says the moment she picks up. “When you go down to the basement to clean up, will you please release Castiel?” She makes a sound between a question and a snort. “He’s in the stockade,” he explains. 

“You didn’t hire me to clean up after you,” she says, amused.

“I’m not asking you that. I’m just asking for...”

“A favor,” she laughs. “Fine, I’ll do it, but, I’ll want something in return.”

“Name your price.”

“Next week, will you let me play with Castiel?”

“I haven’t even finished training him.”

“You should have thought of that earlier.”

He could always let Castiel come again and again, until he’s back but he doesn’t think Castiel is ready for that. “Make it two weeks from now and we have a deal.”

She laughs. “Deal, Winchester.”

“Oh, and, when you untie him? Tell him that he has to give himself two enemas this afternoon, not one, but he is not allowed to wash himself otherwise.”

“Hm. I like that.”

“Of course you would.” Pervert. But then again, that’s exactly why he hired her.

&*&*

When Dean comes back, he finds Castiel waiting for him by the door kneeling. There’s dried cum on his stomach and his cock is hard. This slave is like a puppy, waiting eagerly for his Master’s return. Magda had even put a leash on his collar, making him look even more like a pet. Dean smiles and pets his hair. “You did well today. I am most pleased.” Castiel, smiles, makes a soft sound and then rubs his head against Dean’s thigh. “You’re more eager than usual, pet.” He laughs. It’s hard not to when Castiel looks at him. “You’re really gagging for it, aren’t you my little slut?”

Castiel nods.

“Well, it may be so, but I just came back from work. I need to rest first.” Dean takes the end of the leash, ignores Castiel’s whine, and goes inside. “Sit,” he says as he takes a beer out of the fridge. “What did Magda cook?”

“Fish pie for today, and beef stew for tomorrow.”

“Nice.” The food is in the fridge so he takes it out, puts it in the oven to warm it up and then looks at Castiel. “So.”

“Yes, Master.”

Dean laughs. “You really want to be fucked, don’t you? Acting all obedient for me.”

“Your slave is obedient,” Castiel protests.

“That hadn’t been a question, Castiel. Come here. Lie across the table. Arms at the front. You may grab the table, if you want.”

When he’d chosen the kitchen table, a sturdy old piece made of dark acacia wood, he’d chosen it because he liked its simple design and its natural look. Now, with Castiel draped over it like the world’s sexiest ornament, he thinks it might have been fate that made him buy it. Castiel looks even more delicate against it, his ass softer. He can’t wait to fuck his slave either, but no slave needs to know that.

“And maybe this too,” he says as he takes out a clothespin from where he keeps the laundry things. “Open your mouth, Castiel, and show me your tongue.” Castiel swallows. Dean nods as he fastens it. “From now on, each time you speak without being spoken, I will put one more clothespin on your tongue. So, since I had to put one earlier today, I have to put two now.”

Castiel whimpers, and the fear in his eyes is wonderful. When Dean puts the second one, he shudders and grabs the end of the table, grimacing in pain.

“This is your fault Castiel. If only you behaved,” Dean tells him in a sad voice, and caresses his hair. “I don’t like punishing you.” Castiel stares at him like a hurt animal, asking for mercy. “But you like to be punished, don’t you, Castiel? That’s why you don’t obey me.” 

Castiel shakes his head. 

“No use lying to me,” he says as he moves back and caresses Castiel’s back. “Your body doesn’t lie.” He spreads Castiel’s legs and his hand slides over Castiel’s sac. He rolls his balls into his hand gently. “You’re hard, you slut,” he says as he moves to grab Castiel’s cock. “So very hard, that I bet you’d come, if I kept doing this,” he says, stroking him.

Castiel’s moan is louder when he stops, and Dean chuckles. “See? Total slut.”

He takes a wooden spoon from the folder and smacks it down on Castiel’s ass. Castiel whimpers, and Dean does it again. It leaves a nice, red impression. “Castiel, no squirming.” He enjoys Castiel’s struggle to keep still for a moment, and then hits him twice on the other cheek. “I should spank you more often. You like it so much.” He strokes Castiel a couple of times next, making sure he stays hard, and then pulls back his “But then again, I’d have to find another kind of punishment for you,” he says as the next hit lands on Castiel’s sac. He was careful not to put any strength on the blow but still Cas howls, and his thighs quiver. “Turn around.”

Castiel turns around gingerly. His eyes are bright with tears, his eyelashes clamped together with wetness, making his eyes look even bigger. There’s drool dripping down his mouth and he looks pathetic. Dean takes off the clothespins first, and then pushes Castiel down on the table. Castiel takes a couple of deep breaths when his ass touches the edge of the table. “Lie down properly, Castiel, and spread your legs.”

Castiel moves upwards, winces when he lies down and then spreads his legs slowly. He looks scared and flushed and beautiful, and Dean puts his hand on Castiel’s breast to quieten his rapid heartbeat. “Three more, Cas, three more.”

Castiel pouts, looking miserable. It’s not like he has a choice, though. “One,” Dean says as he strikes the inside of Castiel’s right thigh. “Close your legs and it will be two more,” he adds when Castiel shifts. It’s enough to make Castiel stay in place, although his whole body is shivering. “Two.” It lands on the inside of his left thigh and this time Castiel cries out. “Red looks so good on you,” Dean whispers. “Like crushed flowers on your skin. Three.” This one falls right on top on Castiel’s still hard-cock, and Castiel jumps, reaching for his hurt member. “Stay put,” Dean growls, and Castiel falls back, sniffling and shivering. “You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?”

Castiel shakes his head, refusing to look at him. 

“Cas, you were asking for it, you know it. I don’t like it, I really don’t. No, what I like is simple.” Dean rubs his thumb over the head of Castiel’s cock, and then starts a swift stroking movement. Every two or three times he passes his palm over the head, but what he really does is watch Castiel, eyes closed and body shifting restlessly against the table top. “I like playing with my pretty cock, stroking it like this, and watching my slave squirm when he’s too ashamed to admit he wants my dick. Tell me, Cas, do you want my dick? Do you want me to fill you with my thick dick? I’ll split you open, pretty boy, make you fuck yourself on my...” Castiel groans, body arching off the table, and cums. “My pretty baby,” he murmurs. “Turn around,” he orders as he cleans his hand off on Castiel’s breast.

Castiel makes another whimpering sound, and then moves even more slowly than before. He winces once more as he lies down on his stomach, and Dean pushes him down, so that his ass hangs over the edge of the table. “I could fuck you right now,” he says as he grabs Castiel’s ass and squeezes him. Castiel’s flesh is hot and yielding and Dean presses his fingers to make his mark. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To open this pretty ass with my fingers and fuck you raw.”

Castiel pushes back, and Dean chuckles. “Yes, that’s what I thought. You want to please me, don’t you, Cas?”

Castiel nods, and lets another breathy moan. 

Dean grabs a bottle of olive oil from the counter, opens it and pours some over the small of Castiel’s back. “Extra virgin,” he grins. “Tell me, Cas, did they tell me the truth about you?” He rubs the oil over Castiel’s ass. “They told me you were a virgin. Was that true?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Tell me,” he says as he slips his oiled finger inside Castiel’s hole. “How do they train you at School?”

“They don’t. The Master, ah, the Master....” Castiel wiggles his ass, trying to get more of Dean’s finger inside him. “The Master has to train us. But, ah... We read. Books. We watch. Films.”

“But you had no idea how it feels to be with a man, do you? Or a woman.”

“No, Master.” Castiel turns his head. “We were kept. Locked.”

Dean tries to imagine that. A room full of virgin boys. “Hands or cock?”

“Both.”

Of course. He leans over Cas and places a kiss on his nape when he finds his prostate. When Cas takes a shuddering breath, Dean feels it with his whole body. There’s something about lying over his naked pet while he’s still dressed that makes him harder than before. He presses against Castiel’s prostate one more time, and then starts massaging it in earnest, feeling every move that Castiel makes, every breath, every moan. 

“You like that, Cas?”

“It’s too much, Master.”

“Yes, but do you like it?” he insists.

“Ah.” Castiel closes his eyes, rubs his ass against Dean’s hand and groin and cums with another soft breath. 

“Good boy,” Dean tells him softly, kissing him once more. He takes his finger out, but teases that little hole with the tip of his finger. “You think you can take me?”

“Yes, Master.” Castiel answers without any hesitation, and pushes against Dean one more time. 

“You slut,” Dean laughs as he pulls away and slaps his ass once. He wants to fuck him too, but he won’t do it in the kitchen. Not when it’s his first time taking Cas. “Fine. I want you to lick your cum clean from the floor and the table. When you are done, come upstairs.”

Dean doesn’t wait to see if Castiel will do as he’s told; he’s certain he will. His clothes will probably need two rounds of washing to clean off the cum and oil, but it was worth it. Getting Castiel was one of the best ideas of his life. 

He doesn’t even have a shower as he planned. No point when Castiel will be making another mess on him soon. Instead, he strips off his clothes, puts them in the hamper in the bathroom and by the time he’s out and making sure that there’s lube within easy reach everywhere, Castiel is by the bedroom door, staring at him hungrily.

“You dirty, little whore. You’d do anything for dick, wouldn’t you? Nah, don’t answer that,” he grins. “Come here.” He lies on the bed and as Castiel crawls towards him, he knows this will be quick. 

When Castiel kneels on the bed, Dean lubes himself. “I’m all clean,” he says at Castiel’s suddenly raised eyebrows. “I want you to sit on my lap and fuck yourself. Show me how much you want this.”

Castiel nods. 

“Facing me,” Dean says, and leans further back.

Castiel studies him, moves closer, and then takes Dean’s cock into his hand. It looks small and fragile, pale and pretty, just like Cas. “Come on, Cas, don’t tease me. You think you were the only one waiting?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, but grabs Castiel by the waist and pushes him forward and over his lap. “If I weren’t thinking of you, I would have fucked you from the first moment I bought you. But I had to make sure you’d be able to take me without being hurt. You can speak.”

Castiel still holds Dean’s cock in his hand. “Master is so big.” He looks awed, and eager. “Master has been good to his slave,” he whispers as he guides Dean’s dick to his hole. He winces and scrunches his face in slight pain as he starts moving down. 

“Sensitive?”

“Very,” Castiel gasps and the next moment Dean gasps with him, his whole dick engulfed by Castiel’s tight heat. “Master,” Castiel says brokenly, wraps his arms around Dean, and hides his face in the crook of Dean’s shoulder. “Master,” he sighs, pulling himself up slowly.

“Fuck yourself on me, baby. Don’t let my cock slide out, keep it in all the time. Yes, that’s good. Fuck, that’s better than good. You’re such a needy, little slut, aren’t you? Tell me, is this what you wanted?”

“Yes, Master, please, take your slave.”

“No,” Dean smiles. “Down now, baby. All the way. Do you feel my cock filling you?”

“Yes. Master is big.”

“Does it hurt, Cas?” 

Castiel shakes his head. “No, Master prepared his slave well. It feels full. Stretched. It’s...” Castiel moans and nuzzles him. 

It’s too much. Dean surges, keeps Castiel in place and pushes him down. “I want to see you, Cas. Don’t hide from me. God, when you blush like that, I want to lick you everywhere.” Dean raises Castiel’s legs up, ankles on his shoulders. “Maybe later,” he says and starts thrusting in earnest, hitting Castiel’s prostate each time. 

Castiel whines. “Master, please.” He’s clutching the sheets tightly, trying to hold on to something.

“Don’t worry, Cas, I’ll give you what you want. Fuck, you’re so tight. So hot for me, my pretty.” He feels like he’s inside a sauna, hot, light-headed and dizzy, and the way Cas looks at him. His sexy, little angel, all his. “You were made for this.” Dean slams into him, fascinated by his cock moving in and out of Cas. He looks even bigger like this. “Come on, baby, make me cum. Squeeze your tight little ass for me. Like that, move your ass up now, baby. Now down. Harder, Cas. I want you to fuck back, just like you want to.” 

It only takes another couple of thrusts, and Cas is shuddering beneath him. His pet looks so gorgeous beneath him, arching and tensing, and even though there is no cum this time, Castiel is definitely cuming. 

“Fuck, you’re pretty,” Dean says as he feels his hips snap inside that tight heat on their own until he’s lost in his own rhythm, and Castiel is the only thing that keeps him steady. “My pretty, my own, my tight, little whore.” His climax is swift and relentless and Castiel takes it like it’s nothing. “Pretty.”

Castiel makes a sound that is almost a purr, and holds him, his hands light and gentle on his back. It’s so easy to kiss him when they’re so close, so easy when Castiel opens up beneath him, when Castiel’s mouth is wet and his tongue is patient. It’s so easy to stay there while his breathing returns to normal and his body calms down. But he can’t stay there forever. 

He moves out of Castiel carefully, and puts his fingers inside the boy’s hole. “It’s refusing to close,” he whispers, watching. “It needs to be filled.” He looks at Castiel, who’s staring at him placidly. “It wants – no, you want something inside you all the time,” he smiles as he scoops out his cum and brings his fingers to Castiel’s lips. Castiel opens his mouth obediently. “Such a perfect whore.”

When Castiel has licked his fingers clean, Dean removes them. “Master,” he whispers, giving Dean a tiny smile, and then closing his eyes.

Dean doesn’t feel like punishing this transgression. He presses a kiss on Castiel’s forehead and moves away.

“Master?” 

Dean turns back at Castiel’s soft question. “Hush.” He smiles as he chooses a plug. “Spread your legs,” he says and laughs when he sees Castiel wince again, and grimace in discomfort. “Just something to keep you open for later.” He kisses the soft skin where Castiel’s thigh meets his groin, and breathes in deeply his scent, spicy and salty and yet clean. “There you go,” he says as he pushes the toy in, trapping the rest of his cum inside Castiel. Another kiss, on Castiel’s navel. When he pushes his tongue inside that little hole, Castiel gasps and shivers. “Later,” he promises, getting up. 

Castiel makes to stand, but Dean pushes him down, and covers him with a blanket. When Castiel snuggles in it, he smiles. That too must have been fate when he bought it; it’s a light blue that brings out Castiel’s eyes.

“Have you eaten?”

“No, Master.” Castiel blushes. “They told us, it’s better not to eat for a few hours before engaging in anal sex and when...” his blush turns deeper, “when Lady Magda said I had to clean myself twice...” He shrugs.

“Okay.” Dean can’t stop kissing Cas; what is wrong with him? “You stay here.” 

Castiel nods. For a moment they stare at each other, but then Castiel yawns, and looks away, embarrassed. 

“Right,” Dean says, feeling strangely awkward. He doesn’t want to move. He needs to have a shower and prepare something to eat, but instead he can’t stop looking at how peaceful Castiel looks lying in his bed, hugging his pillow, snuggling inside his blanket. As if Castiel won’t be there in the morning. 

He’s being stupid. And so he gets up. Tired slaves won’t feed themselves, after all.


	11. Chapter 11

As usual, Castiel gets up before Master Dean. He cleans himself inside and out, plugs himself and then goes back to Master’s bedroom. What should he do next? He wants to crawl into bed, the covers were warm and Master Dean warmer, but what if Master Dean thinks he’s being presumptuous? Just because Master let him sleep in his bed, does not mean that Master wants him there. 

He lies down by the side of the bed in the end, watching Master Dean turn lazily in his sleep. Will Master use him this morning? He wants it so much, and yet, he feels sore and achy. Perhaps that is also part of what Master means with ‘low pain tolerance’. He must become better if Master is to keep him. 

Master stretches, yawns, moves again. Master is graceful. Master is beautiful. In another world, Master could have been slave; He is that beautiful, with his tanned, freckled skin and his bright green eyes. In a different world, one where Castiel had not been abandoned at birth, he and Master could have been equals. Castiel would have been able to go back to sleep beside Him, touch Him freely, talk to Him without fear of clothespins or worse. 

But in this world, he could have been bought by someone ugly and cruel, someone who could put bottles inside Castiel and tear him in two and let him die bleeding, the way Sir Raphael killed his best friend James within a month of buying him. He could have been made to sleep in a cage every night, or be tortured or...

“Hey,” Master Dean’s voice is sleepy and lazy, stopping his list of torments. “What you doin’ down there?” Master smiles. “Come here.”

Castiel obeys, trying to keep his expression calm. Each move he makes causes the plug to move inside him, hurting him a little, and at the same time...

“You’re already hard, you slut,” Master grins as he lifts the covers and shows Castiel his erection. 

Castiel does not hesitate. He kneels down and takes the tip in his mouth, sucking it gently for a moment. Master tastes warm, and salty, and Castiel likes it because it is Master, not because it tastes pleasant at first. 

“What? Cas,” Master Dean says, sounding surprised or perhaps displeased. 

Castiel lowers his head, cautiously trying to keep his teeth from accidentally hurting Master, and having Master’s penis slide inside his throat. The best part about this is feeling Master’s heartbeat, steady and strong. When it gets quicker, Castiel knows it’s because of him, and even though he shouldn’t, he feels proud. 

“Fuck, Cas,” Master says and presses his head down. “You love being stuffed with dick all the time, don’t you?”

In another world Castiel would argue that he only wants Master’s dick, but in this one he moans around it and wants to bring Master to climax. He wants to make Master happy, and show Him how useful he is, how grateful. That’s all. 

“God, your mouth,” Master Dean sighs, and pets his hair. “Look at me, Cas.”

Castiel looks up. This view is so much better. Master looks flushed, his eyes shining and his lips wet. He dreams of kissing Master’s lips, and pretends it’s Master’s mouth he’s kissing, his tongue he’s licking, his lips he keeps locked with his lips. “Master,” he gasps and it comes out chocked and garbled, but it doesn’t matter. Master pulses in his mouth, and when Castiel dares touch his balls, they’re drawn up. When Castiel caresses them, Master pushes him against his groin one more time and Castiel feels Master’s heartbeart wild and restless, and warmth down his throat. 

He doesn’t want to let go of Master’s penis. When Master Dean pulls away, Castiel follows, staring at Master. He presses a soft kiss on the head and rubs his cheek against the shaft. 

“God,” Master moans loudly and jerks a little. “Come here.” He doesn’t wait for Castiel to move, though, but grabs him and pulls him up. Then he’s pressing Castiel against him, kissing him, pushing around the traces of His seed with His tongue, and licking Castiel’s mouth clean. Master Dean does not move much, he just holds him and kisses him, but it’s enough for Castiel, and he shudders helplessly as he comes, his body on fire from his toes to the top of his head.

Master Dean pushes him away after that. “You came without permission,” he tells him seriously, staring down at the evidence. 

Castiel looks down as well. Damn. 

“You’re nothing but a whore, Castiel,” Master Dean says, taking hold of Castiel’s cock. “A filthy slut made to be fucked.” Master Dean strokes him and it hurts. “I don’t know how to make you obey,” Master continues, still touching him. Castiel has to bite his lips a little to stop himself from crying out. If his body was on fire before, now he’s thrown in molten lava. “I bet you’d spread your legs for any man who touched you.”

Clothespins. Three clothespins if he speaks again. Castiel shakes his head and wants to make Master believe that he would never. He’s obviously a slut, and his cheeks burn at the thought, but he’s Master’s slut. No one else’s. 

“And if I can’t trust you, and I see before me that you can’t control yourself, what am I to do?”

Castiel jerks, shaking his head. He wishes he were bound, because he really wants to push Master’s hand away from his penis, and he mustn’t. He belongs to Master, and Master is not cruel; Master is only trying to teach him better manners. But it hurts so much. It hurts as much as last night when Master made him come three times in a row, only then he knew it was Master showing his love. Now Master is punishing him. 

Master Dean does that thing with his thumb after a swift, twisty stroke and Castiel comes again, crying out in both pain and pleasure. Oh, god, let it stop now. He hears whimpering and it’s coming from him. 

“I had thought this would be necessary,” Master Dean says as he moves away and Castiel can’t help but follow his movements with his eyes, watching Him open a drawer. “Obviously, I was wrong.”

Castiel pretends he’s looking at the ceiling the moment Master turns towards him again. It’s preferable to seeing what objects Master carries in his hand. No matter what it is, it won’t be good for such a disobedient, ill-mannered slut as he is. 

“Up on all fours, Castiel. Facing away from me.”

Castiel obeys and lowers his head in shame. It’s like the more he tells himself to be good for Master Dean, the more he fails. 

“I wanted to give you a present for your good behavior so far,” Master Dean starts as he twists the plug inside Castiel but not removing it. “But now, I can’t trust you.” 

Master Dean pulls out the toy slowly, the edges dragging around his sensitive hole, drawing out another moan from him. He’s suck a slut, Castiel sighs. 

The feeling of being empty doesn’t last long. Master Dean pushes something else inside him, a ball that is attached to a thin shaft that curves down. It’s cold, like metal, and Castiel tells himself that this discomfort will pass. Then Master snaps a ring close around the base of his penis. It’s tight but not uncomfortably so. 

“Turn around, facing me. No, not like that. sit down.”

Castiel sits down carefully. It’s strange to sit when there’s something inside him. But with that ring, he probably won’t get hard no matter how much that thing inside him tugs and pulls and presses. 

Master Dean caresses his thighs and spreads them open. “Such soft skin,” He says as if He’s never touched anything like it. “But this is softer,” He tells Castiel with His fingers tracing his balls. “And it’s all mine, don’t you forget it,” He says and His hand closes painfully around them.

Castiel swallows and nods. How could he? 

Next Master Dean taps his cock. It hurts. 

“Stop it, Castiel. You’d think I drove a needle down your dick the way you’re crying.” 

Master wouldn’t, would He?

Master laughs. “Your eyes. Your expression.” 

Which doesn’t the question in a satisfactory way, so Castiel looks down and studies the cock-ring that Master put on him. It’s simple, the two parts closing at the front, and while he watches, Master Dean secures them with a small, but heavy-duty padlock. Then he shows Castiel the key, before putting it down on the nightstand. 

“Castiel, because you have been good, I decided to reward you.” Master goes and takes out a small card from his jacket. “When you were at School, did you practice any sports?”

“Yes, Master.” 

“Well?”

“Swimming, and running. I also did yoga.”

Master Dean smiles, obviously pleased. “Then this will be an even better reward than I thought. This is a year-long membership to the Stars Gym. I want you to stay in shape and develop well.”

Castiel stills. A year-long membership? Master will keep him for a year at least. And he wants him to go out of the house, and exercise regularly. Master wants him well and healthy. He’s so, so lucky. 

“Well?”

Three clothespins. Damn it. 

Master Dean’s smile softens. “Permission to speak granted.”

Instead of speaking immediately, Castiel hugs Master Dean. “Thank you,” he whispers when he can. 

“You’re welcome,” Master Dean says, looking at him bemused when Castiel moves back. “This though,” Master Dean points at the cock-ring, “is because you’re still a hopeless slut. I think you’ve understood already that there’s no way to remove this without cutting off the padlock – or your dick. I hope this will you keep you in line. Anyway,” Master Dean straightens his back and stretches, “I expect you to exercise there at least three times a week, if not more. Of course, some days it might be impossible, and I will make an allowance for the times you have to miss gym because of an event or illness.”

Castiel frowns. 

“Ah, yes.” Master Dean takes out from behind his desk a large calendar. “This will be next to the Blackboard from now on.”

It’s not blank, as Castiel would have expected. Some days are marked with big red crosses. 

“These are Event days. Which reminds me.” Master Dean picks up a red marker and makes yet another cross. “This is when Magda will play with you.”

Castiel looks down. So, that’s how it will be. He’s too much of a slut to be trusted to go out without a cock-ring and a plug, but Master Dean will share him with everyone He wants. 

“It is my Will to see how you perform with others,” Master Dean continues relentlessly. “You want to be a perfect slave, don’t you?”

Of course he does, but... He can’t look up. What the fuck did he think? That because Master was kind and willing to spend time to train him, that He really... Castiel is slave, and Master is Master. Master’s kindness has an expiry date, and Castiel’s feelings are irrelevant. 

“The number of crosses signifies the intensity of the Event,” Master Dean goes on, not noticing or ignoring Castiel’s distress. “Magda is not a demanding Mistress, but the next few things are designed to push your limits.” Master Dean takes Castiel right hand in his own. “I won’t let anything happen to you that you can’t take. You know that, right?”

Castiel nods. Master Dean’s hand is so tanned next to his. So big. It made him feel safe held by these hands. He can’t stop himself from putting his left hand over Master’s, as he nods again. 

Master Dean gasps, and when he pulls his hands away, he looks flustered. “So, the key? Since this is not punishment, I give you permission to release yourself when you are in the house.”

Castiel shakes his head. 

“What?”

“Your slave belongs to Master. Your slave has no right.” This slave loves Master’s hands on him. He will not deprive himself of an opportunity of Master touching him. 

Master Dean frowns. “Ok,” he says after a while. “But if anything happens to me, then you will release yourself, ok? I’m just saying.”

Castiel nods. Master’s consideration is reassuring, but nothing will happen to Master. And if it does, well, then Castiel will... He doesn’t know what he will do, but he will do something. 

&*&*

Master Dean keeps changing the Rules, but that is His prerogative. Also, some changes are not that bad by themselves. Because Master Dean wants others to use him, He stops spanking him with anything that can leave long-lasting marks, and when He spanks him, He never puts much strength or spanks him for long. So, paddles and whips are out of the picture, and when he gets spanked, it’s always by hand and never more than six slaps. 

He is also uninterested in what Castiel does at the gym as long as he stays fit, so Castiel spends the first day bewildered. He signs up for swimming, of course, and yoga, which is always good, but there are so many other things he could do that he wishes Master Dean had taken the options away from him, like other Masters did when they sent their slaves there. But that only lasts for the first few days. 

The second week Castiel, still confused and indecisive and having gone through different fitness classes, comes across a class of Mixed Martial Arts. He doesn’t recognise half the techniques used, but he likes what he sees. These slaves are fit, and their agility and strength appeals to him. 

He also makes a new friend. Uriel is slightly older than him, and his Master trains him so he can later act as His bodyguard. “A pretty thing like you will always work as a sex-slave, but the rest of us will have to earn a living working sooner or later,” Uriel sneers when he first spots Castiel watching him practice. “So, go and sign up for pilates or swimming, and leave us to it.”

“This is more interesting. I prefer it to the other classes I’ve been to.”

“Hm,” Uriel snorts, but his expression is more open. “You, huh? Not ‘this slave’?” He grins. “So, your Master hasn’t lobotomised you yet.”

Castiel frowns. Master would never.

“Fine, you can join us, but if I hear a word of complain, I’ll kick you out sooner than you can say ‘fuck’.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Uriel’s smile widens. “Manners. I like you already, boy.”

“I’m Castiel. Not ‘boy’.” 

Uriel laughs, and that is that. Uriel is one of the most experienced fighters in the club despite his youth, and so Castiel is rarely partnered with him when he learns and practices different moves and techniques. However, Uriel is always there when he makes a mistake, explaining or correcting him. He would make a great trainer one day, Castiel is certain of that. 

And when Master Dean asks him how he spent his day, he says ‘exercising’ and leaves it at that. Master Dean will only have Castiel for a year. Castiel will be with Castiel for ever, and in that room with work-slaves Castiel is making himself better for himself.


	12. Chapter 12

Magda knows that there are so many ways one can use a slave, but this is not her slave. This is her employer’s, and she’s the first one to play with him besides his Master, so it’s a great honor and responsibility. She’s already seen how flawlessly pale the boy’s skin is, and immediately knows what boundaries she must keep. No one would leave such skin unmarked for long, unless they had plans for marking it later, and without Dean’s explicit permission, she will not be the one doing the marking.

“Stand up and let me see you,” she orders. The boy gets up gracefully, not meeting her gaze, and Magda wonders where Dean will turn this white canvas into a work of art. She’d like to see that. “I see your Master keeps you locked,” she says, fondling his genitals. They’re still small, but then again, so is the boy. But oh, so pretty. His balls are soft like apricots, and his cock is tender and vulnerable, beyond compare. The things she could do. 

But she must restrain herself. “I brought some clothes for you,” she says pointing at a bag by her feet. “Put them on.”

The boy takes them out carefully. He tilts his head a little when he realises what they are, and Magda smiles. “Yes, they are for you and they should fit. Unless they are a little tight, of course.”

He blushes like a virgin, staring at the piece of fabric. 

“Still not dressed? I will let your Master know how slow you are at obeying orders.”

He nods, and puts the panties on. They’re even better than she imagined when she bought them for him: they’re shaped like short boxer briefs, but there’s lace at the sides and the front and back are made with fishnet that leave nothing to the imagination, but keep everything tantalizingly framed. A cute little ribbon at the centre, almost over the boy’s cock-head, finishes the look, and Dean’s pretty slave reddens everywhere under her gaze. What a sweet thing.

“Turn around.” The view from the back is just as tempting, and she smoothes the fabric over his cheeks, squeezing them when she’s done. 

“Now the rest.”

The slave takes out the stockings next. They’re opaque white, reaching up to his thighs, but with a black satin bow at the front. 

“Don’t rip them,” she says but after seeing him struggle for a moment, she takes pity on him. “Sit down, and give me your leg.” And what a well-formed leg it is. She kneels in front of the boy, takes his foot in her hand and as she slips the stocking on, the boy giggles. “Tickles?”

He nods, still smiling. 

“Ah.” Now that she knows, she’s relentless in her efforts to discover where it tickles the most; the arched instep, the soft flesh underneath each toe, the place where the instep lowers to meet the heel. But it’s very difficult to find out. The boy keeps laughing and laughing, until he’s wheezing helplessly, and holds on to the table. “That’s enough, then? Tell me.”

“Only if Lady wishes,” he says, and his voice is soft.

“You’re sweet,” she smiles and continues putting on the stocking. “See, you must do this slowly, and be careful with your nails. Most stockings are made of thinner material, and if you rip them, your Master will punish you.”

He nods and watches her with an intensity that almost makes her awkward. 

“I must tell Dean to get you some knee-pads,” she says, massaging the skin there. It’s soft, but it could be softer. She’d never let her slave kneel around or crawl without protection. She finishes and pats his thigh. “Put the other one on. Show me what you’ve learned.”

He’s careful, more careful than Magda, concentrating so much his brow furrows a little. But when he’s done, he looks at Magda, needing her approval. 

She smiles. “Well done, boy. Well done.” 

He doesn’t wait for her order to put on the next piece of clothing, a short, satin black apron with white lace at the edges. Magda ties it around his back herself, making sure that the two ribbons from the bow fall neatly over his ass. When she turns him around, he’s blushing again. 

“You shouldn’t blush,” she tells him. “You’re so beautiful like this. You make your Master proud.” She reaches beneath the apron and drags her finger over his cock from the base to the tip. The fishnet feels rough compared to the slave’s dick. “This is what you were made for. To submit and obey.” 

He nods. 

“Good.” She takes a step back and arranges his apron again. “Now, have you ever done any household chores?”

“No, Lady.”

“Yes, I didn’t think so. A pretty thing is usually kept just for sex. Still,” she says as she takes out the vacuum cleaner. “I believe that even sex slaves should have other skills. What if your Master acquires another slave, and while he prefers them to you, he doesn’t sell you? What will you do then? No answer? Yes, I thought as much.” 

“So, today I will show you how to clean the kitchen floor. First you vacuum,” and she shows him how it starts and stops. “When you have finished, I want you to take a bucket full of water, add some washing liquid – a little, not too much – and a sponge.” The boy keeps staring at her, so she smiles and decides that she can be a bit more lenient this time. She puts water and adds some liquid in the bucket. “See? This much.” She takes out an old sponge and a practical pair of rubber gloves. “Wear the gloves, and then kneel on the floor and clean out everything with the sponge. Dip the sponge in water, rinse so it won’t be too wet, clean the floor. Repeat. All clear?”

He nods again. 

She’s not sure how she feels about such a quiet slave, but then again, what Dean does with his property is his own business. “Great. I’ll go start on the living room and come to check up on your progress later.”

On her way out she turns on the kitchen camera. She has a feeling Dean would like to see that.


	13. Chapter 13

Dressed up and with touches of make-up on his face Castiel feels like a real doll. He stands still as Master’s friends and Master’s brother inspect him, lift up his skirt and touch his arms, his neck, his penis. Lady Meg is the worst, she can’t stop touching him and her nails leave painful tracks on his skin. Sir Sam is bad too, pretending that he doesn’t exist. 

“Well?” Master Dean asks them.

Lady Ellen nods. “Okay, Winchester, you were right. Your slave is as pretty as a girl.”

He’s a boy, not a girl. He is what Master wants. That spot on the floor looks very interesting. Castiel focuses on that, and not on Lady Meg lifting up his skirt one more time and squeezing his buttocks. 

“I don’t know,” Lady Meg says. “Girls have softer and rounder asses.”

Lady Jo huffs. “The question is, if Dean’s pet is as pretty as a girl. Not if he looks like a girl.”

“One can’t be as pretty as a girl and not look like one,” Lady Meg argues. “Dean, what did you mean when you bet that he’s as pretty as a girl?”  
“Erm....” Master Dean doesn’t answer.

“I think the answer is clear,” Sir Sam says. “A guy can be as pretty as a girl as long as he is as desirable as a girl, and I think that Castiel is definitely desirable.”

“If that’s your thing,” Sir Ash mutters. “I’m just saying.”

Master Dean laughs. “I know how we can settle this. Cas, take off your clothes.”

Something acidic burns inside his stomach and rises up his throat. He swallows it down and takes off the shirt first. Even though Master Dean had already told him that his punishment for his transgression the day before would be to serve his friends while naked, when he has to strip, he feels his hands shaking. Being naked around people is one thing; being dressed first and then naked another. It’s being much more naked. 

“Can I help?” Lady Meg asks cheerfully. 

“No.”

“Oh. You’re being mean.”

“Whatever, bitch.”

“Whom are you calling bitch, stupid?”

“You, you bitch.”

“You’re such an immature idiot, Winchester,” Lady Meg sneers. 

“At least I’m not a whore.”

“No, just a manwhore.”

Master Dean’s answer is drowned by Sir Sam’s, “Enough. Must you always act like five-year-olds?”

“She started it.”

“Bullshit.”

“Gah, enough.”

Castiel has never heard Master Dean with any of his friends before. Master Dean does not sound all that masterful with them. And by focusing on their bickering, he doesn’t even realise he’s completely naked until he’s slipped off his panties and suddenly all the noises stop. 

“I don’t think we need to ask ourselves anymore,” Sir Ash says, sounding strange. 

“Damn,” Lady Meg whistles. “Dean, can I have him? Pretty please? With whipped cream and cherries on top?”

Castiel blushes. He’s nothing like a girl, and he doesn’t like being pretty. It’s embarrassing. 

“Castiel, lie down,” Master Dean tells him quietly, pointing at the table, as he goes into the kitchen. “Sam?” Master’s brother follows him immediately. “Ash, some help with the coffee?”

Castiel does. His curiosity doesn’t remain unsatisfied for long. Master Dean comes back with a platter of fruit, and Sir Sam carries one with different cuts of meat and cheeses. Sir Ash is the one with a tray with stacked mugs and a coffee pot.

“Who wants breakfast?”

“I’m not eating off your pet, no matter how cute he is,” Lady Jo protests.

Castiel wants to die. What if Master thinks that it is Castiel’s fault that he can’t serve His friends? 

“Me neither,” Sir Sam says, putting down the platter. 

“Traitors,” Master Dean replies. “Have it your way.” He arranges the plates around Castiel and then goes back into the kitchen. 

“Have you turned into Sam?” Lady Ellen asks loudly.

“I refuse to eat the crap Dean calls breakfast,” Sam answers. “Fruit was a compromise. If you excuse me for a moment.”

When Master Dean comes back it is with yet another tray, this one with a plate stacked with pancakes that smell delicious, two bottles of syrup and a dish of butter. Sir Sam brings plates and cutlery. He’s the one who hands them around, while Master Dean arranges things around Castiel again. These pancakes. They’re making him hungry, even though he ate before everyone arrived. 

It takes all his concentration not to move when Master Dean places a still warm pancake on his stomach. He glances around, embarrassed. Lady Ellen grimaces and Lady Jo giggles. Lady Meg only waits for a moment before she puts her pancake over Castiel’s chest. 

“So, this is how it will be?” Sir Ash laughs.

“Cas is really clean.”

“But he was wearing clothes a moment before.”

“And you used to eat dirt, Jo.”

“Dirt is good for you,” Lady Jo argues. 

“I’d rather use a plate, if you don’t mind,” Sir Sam says. 

Master Dean snorts, pouring syrup over the pancake. The sensation of the cold liquid after the warm food is pleasant, but that only lasts for a moment because Master Dean places his fork down, and the spears bite into his skin. When he drags his knife to cut the pancake, Castiel stays very, very still, but he still feels the edge scraping along. 

“Punishment, Cas,” Master Dean tells him very softly, winking at him. 

Castiel decides that he’d rather bite his tongue off than speak again and be punished like that again. This is more than embarrassing; this is frightening. Master Dean he trusts, but Lady Meg’s eyes don’t promise anything good. His only hope is that this won’t last long.


	14. Chapter 14

Sam had never thought that his brother could be such a sadist. His poor slave had lain there scared and still and Dean had behaved as if that was normal. Then Meg followed suit, and soon after Ash wanted to try eating off Castiel. Even though he didn’t use a fork, he did pour syrup all over the boy and finger-painted with it before he dipped pieces of fruit in. In the end, even Jo tried it, declaring it ‘an interesting experience’ when she was done. Only he and Ellen kept to their plates. 

“What are you thinking?” 

“That you’re an asshole.” 

Dean glares. Unlike Sam, he doesn’t think that having private discussions in the middle of huge crowds is wise. But where can one find greater privacy than where no one pays attention to them?

“That poor kid was scared out of his wits, Dean.”

“It wouldn’t be punishment if it were fun.” Dean smirks, “unless when it’s supposed to be.” Dean’s grin widens. “If you’d really minded, you would have said something during breakfast, not now.”

“I don’t like people who meddle in other people’s affairs. But I’m just saying, Dean, you could have been nicer.”

“I have been. I let him go out of the house, and now he’s allowed to walk on two feet when he’s alone. What more does he need?” 

Sam raises his hands in the air, shaking his head. “Dean, you are an asshole.”

“And you’re a bitch. Now shut up. I wanna watch this.”

“So, where did you drop him off anyway?” That had puzzled Sam. When Dean first led Castiel inside the car, Sam expected that the boy would join them. Instead, Dean took the long route to the stadium and half-way through, stopped and let Cas go off on his own.

“Just to see some friends.” Dean’s expression is a cross between excited and impish.

Sam is afraid to ask for more details. So, he just nods and turns his attention back to the game.


	15. Chapter 15

After the game they go for drinks, and then an early dinner. Ordinarily, after punishing Cas like that, Dean would have been eager to return home and give his slave some reward for his behavior, but not this day. Anticipating something makes his excitement grow, and he doesn’t want to go home, find that Cas has not returned yet, and sit there disappointed and waiting. But by the time dinner is over, Sam looks tired and so Dean does not suggest going out for another round of drinks. Instead, he bids Sam goodnight and goes back to his house. 

He’s in luck. Cas is in the kitchen, lying curled on his rug and obviously sleeping. Poor guy; he’d had a long day, he deserves some rest. Dean just has a quick look for bruises, finds a few reddened areas, and then covers Cas with a blanket. His Cas is good like that, but now he has to check how good he has really been.

The DVD is on top of the player, so Dean puts it in and makes himself comfortable. There are no credits, as this was a special commission. Instead the film starts with Cas dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans sitting primly on the edge of a bed covered with a floral-patterned duvet, clearly uncomfortable. 

“So, we’re here with Cas,” a cheerful male voice says from behind the camera. “Hey, Cas. How are you?”

Cas shrugs. “Okay, I guess,” he says in a small voice.

So, Cas’ refusal to address himself as ‘Master’s slave’ is happening more often than Dean thought. He will definitely punish him for this. 

“Okay,” the guy laughs. “So, how old are you?” 

“Um... fifteen.”

“And how old were you when you first had sex?”

“Fifteen.”

“Wow. So, what are you here to do today?”

“Film?” Cas is now looking nervous, wringing his hands and wetting his lower lip.

“Yeah?” The guy laughs again. “Suck cock and stuff like that?”

Cas blushes. 

“You like sucking cock?”

“Yes?” Dean thinks that if Cas were allowed to leave, he’d run out of the room. Perhaps he ought to punish him for not being as cooperative as Dean told him to be. He stops the DVD and gets his note book, writing ‘Punishments’ on top of an empty page and drawing two lines underneath, with ‘address’ and ‘cooperation’ next to them. He can’t even watch a film without being interrupted by Cas’ insubordination, so he draws one more line and then starts watching again.

“Yes? Was that a question? So, well, what don’t you like about it?”

Cas thinks carefully. “When it’s deep into my throat. It hurts, and makes me gag.”

“And what do you like about it?”

“That it’s Master’s.”

“Ah. So, have you ever been with another man besides your Master?”

Cas shakes his head, looking straight at the camera. “That’s why Master said I should learn from you, Sir.” 

Dean has to touch himself over his jeans. How does Cas look so innocent when asking to be fucked? 

“Good boy,” the guy says. “Now, let me see you.”

Cas takes off his shirt slowly. When he’s done he looks down. 

“Nice. Don’t be shy. Now, touch yourself.” 

The camera moves down, where Cas is gingerly petting his chest.

“Yeah, that’s good. Squeeze your nipples with your fingers. You like that?”

Cas doesn’t answer. 

“Alright.” There’s a cut and then the camera changes angle, moving downwards and revealing the guy’s erection. Cas is on his knees, stroking it carefully, and Dean can see that he’s still wearing his jeans. “So, do you know what to do with that cock?”

“Suck it?”

“Yeah. You’re a good little boy, right?”

Cas nods and licks the head. He slowly sucks the dick in his mouth, still stroking the shaft, and when he has perhaps half of it in, perhaps less, he starts bobbing his head up and down lavishing all his attention to that part. 

The guy doesn’t seem to mind. “Oh, yeah, just like that. That’s good,” he moans. “Oh yeah, that’s good.”

Dean doesn’t know what Cas’ problem is. The guy’s dick isn’t larger than Dean’s and Dean knows Cas can take it. Instead, he’s watching Cas suck and lick half of it, dishonoring him. What must they think after this performance? That he can’t train his slave to suck cock properly, that’s what. He makes another line. ‘Refusal to take cock down throat’.

“Yeah, that’s it. You a good little boy?”

“I’m a good little boy,” Cas answers timidly. This time the cut is seamless, because there seems to be no break between Cas kneeling half-dressed between the man’s legs, and now that Cas is lying naked on the bed between them.

“Yeah, okay. Spit on it. Just like that. Take it deeper.”

Cas does but even then he doesn’t take as much Dean expects. 

The guy is more patient than Dean gave him credit though. “Yeah, that’s good,” he keeps moaning as Castiel continues with his miserable performance. “Tell me you’re a good little whore.” 

“I’m a good little whore?” 

“Yeah. Oh, that’s good.” The camera moves away, showing another man. This one has a small beer belly, and has sparse hair all over his torso. “Now, suck his cock.”

Cas, not looking up, shifts so he can take the next man’s dick in his mouth. He does the same half-assed job, sucking and licking the top like he’s a fucking kitten. It’s cute, but boring. 

“Come on, be a good little whore,” Guy nr 1 says. “Suck it as far as you can go.”

Cas does it once, makes a soft gagging noise, and then it’s back to having half a dick in his mouth. Guy nr 1 moves and Cas follows his movement.

“Yeah, look at the camera. Tell the camera you’re a good little whore.”

Cas makes a tiny hurt sound, and looks away and at the cock in front of him. 

“Tell the camera you’re a good little whore,” Guy nr 1 instructs patiently.

“I’m a good little whore,” Cas whispers. 

“Yeah, come here, little whore,” Guy nr 2 says softly, and pushes Cas’ head down with his hand. Even when Cas gags he doesn’t let him go. 

“That’s good, little whore. Suck that cock,” Guy nr 1 says, and his tone is no longer gentle as before. 

Cas coughs. Guy nr. 2 lets him spit and then pulls his head back down onto his cock. “Yeah, keep going. Nice and sloppy.” He makes Cas take it deeper, and when Cas gags, he pushes him back, lifts his head and spits on his forehead. “You’re a good little whore?”

“Yes.”

Guy nr 2 tightens his grip on Castiel’s jaw. “Tell that to the camera.”

“I’m a good little whore,” Cas whimpers, his eyes burning with shame. 

“Yeah. Get that dick in your fucking mouth.”

Cas doesn’t wait for the guy to push him down, and he does a much better job this time, taking it all down nice and smooth, just like Dean knows he can do it.

“Yeah, that’s better, little whore,” Guy nr 1 approves. 

Guy nr 2 spits on Cas. “You don’t like it when people spit on you?”

Cas shakes his head a little, cock still firmly lodged in his mouth. 

“Too bad,” Guy nr 2 says and does it again. He pushes his index fingers next to his dick and spreads Cas’ mouth wide open. “You look like you’re gonna cry, little whore. Are you gonna cry, little whore?”

“Don’t look like that,” Guy nr 1 says. “You’re a good little whore. Keep going.”

Guy nr 2 wipes his fingers on Cas’ hair, and pushes Cas’ head down again. “Take that deep,” he says.

“Yeah, that’s a good fucking little whore,” he says not letting him up until Cas gags and throws up. Now that’s something Dean had never expected; he had begun to think that Cas had no gag reflex. “Oh, you made a mess. Tell the camera you’re a messy, dirty whore.”

Cas shakes his head, looking like he’s about to cry. 

“You sad? You sad, little whore? Nod your head if you’re sad,” Guy nr 2 mocks him.

Cas nods. 

“Aw, don’t be sad,” Guy nr 1 says. “You’re a good little whore. Now take that dick in your mouth.” 

Cas sniffles as he does that.

“Such a good little whore,” Guy nr 2 says. “Look at me.” The moment Cas raises his eyes, he spits on him. “Like that?”

“No,” Cas mumbles.

“Too bad.” And he spits on him again. 

A moment later Cas’ eyes fill with tears and the camera moves back, letting Dean see how Guy nr 1 is pushing his condomed dick against Cas’ hole. 

“Put that cock in your mouth,” Guy nr 2 snaps, and the camera moves back. Cas is on the bed with his arms down and his ass up in the air. Guy nr 2 is holding Cas’ head down, stuffing his face with dick, while Guy nr 1 is holding Cas’ hips and drives into him. Cas moans unhappily. “You’re a good, fucking whore. Come on, yeah. Put that cock in your mouth.”

Guy nr 1 fucks Cas faster. “You like that?”

Cas is whimpering around the dick in his mouth. Dean unbuttons his jeans. His dick feels so hard. 

“Yeah, you like that, you little whore.” 

“How does that big dick in your ass feels? Feels good?”

“Ouch,” Cas manages and it’s clear that Guy nr 2 is no longer face-fucking him. 

The camera moves away and Guy nr 2 is now holding Cas down against his chest, pushing his fingers into his mouth. “You little piece of shit,” he says, spitting on Cas, and mixing his saliva with the tears on Cas’ cheeks. “How you like that dick in your ass?”

Cas moans and screws his eyes shut. He hates it, he clearly does and Dean is so tempted to get up, go to the kitchen and get a blow-job from Cas. His boy is so beautiful when hurting, so fucking gorgeous. 

“What’s the matter? It fucking hurts? That big dick in your boy-cunt?” This is a later scene because Cas is now up on all fours, even though Guy nr 2 still holds his face. 

Cas doesn’t whimper or sniffle, but cries, refusing to look at the guys or the camera. Dean takes his cock out to stroke himself finally. He loves those pathetic little moans. He loves knowing that it’s his boy being abused by those guys because he ordered it. He loves seeing Cas suffer because it’s his Will. 

“Aww, what’s the matter? Don’t cry, little whore.”

Guy nr 1 is still pounding away at the next scene, but Guy nr 2 is feeding Cas his cock. “Down, in your fucking mouth. Choke on it. Stay there, you little whore.” Cas cries, jerking back and forth from the power behind Guy nr 1’s thrusts, and guy nr 2 keeps his head down to prevent his cock from slipping away. “That’s a good little whore.”

At the last sex scene Cas is sitting on the floor, eyes tightly shut as the two guys are cuming over his face. Dean strokes his dick furiously at the sight of thick, pearly drops landing on Cas’ anguished face. 

“Yeah, nice,” Guy nr 1 says. “Was that nasty?”

Cas makes a soft sound of assent and that finishes Dean off. He’s such a lucky bastard; he can get up and fuck Cas any time he wants to, but these two guys have to rely on Dean’s good will. 

Guy nr 1 spits on Cas’ forehead again. Dean watches lazily as Guy nr 2 directs his cum over Cas’ closed eyes. He doesn’t need to watch more but it’s what, another two minutes left? 

Final scene has Cas sitting naked and even more miserable on the edge of the bed. 

“So, tell me what you thought about today.”

“It was difficult.”

“Yeah? What did you find the most difficult?”

“Spitting on me.” 

“Yeah? Why?”

“It made me feel... like trash.” Cas’ expression is sad and serious. 

“Made you feel humiliated, huh? So... what was more humiliating? The spit on your face or the cum?”

“Both,” Cas answers after a moment’s thought. 

“Sad little whore. You feel like crying now?”

“A little,” Cas whispers, looking down. 

“Well, that’s my job, you know? Are you mad at me?”

Cas shakes his head. 

“You can admit it.”

“I’m not mad at you. Or,” he glances at the side, “your colleague.”

“And did you learn anything today?”

“That I need more practice with other men?” Cas asks looking at the camera. He seems completely ashamed, and then nods. “That. I think.”

The screen goes black. ‘Thanks. We’re willing to let him practice with us anytime’, it says in big, white letters. 

Dean thinks about it. Maybe later. He gets up, goes to the kitchen, turns the light on and nudges Cas with his boot to wake him up. 

Cas starts. When he sees Dean, he prostrates himself clumsily. 

“On your knees,” Dean commands him. “I saw what you did today,” he says, and Cas flinches. “Your behavior was appalling. You refused to show my friends proper respect, you cried like a baby, and you acted like a spoiled, untrained brat. What have I been teaching you for a month, Castiel? Your actions dishonored me.” He picks up the marker. Instead of writing down the number of punishments, though, he points it at the next day marked with crosses at the calendar. “However, if you behave as a well-trained, obedient slave when I take you to this party, I will forgive your transgressions today. Do not disappoint me, Castiel, or else...”

Cas blinks back tears and Dean doesn’t finish his threat. Let Cas imagine the worst; it will help him behave well next time.


	16. Chapter 16

For the next two days, Dean refuses to touch Cas, and keeps him in a chastity device. He calls it ‘preparation for the party’ but from the way Cas looks at him, he knows that the boy thinks it’s punishment. In all honesty, he doesn’t know what to do with Cas. Cas used to greet him at the door, or tell him ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’ without permission, and on the few nights he slept in Dean’s bed, he’d liked to snuggle. Now Cas is this sullen creature that stays in his corner, avoids Dean as much as Dean refuses to touch him, and doesn’t speak to him. Dean had been tempted to whip him, but he can’t bring his new slave to the Club with marks. 

As a Hunter, a member of the city’s most elite BDSM group, Dean doesn’t have to respect many rules, but one of those few is that whenever one of them acquires a new slave, he or she must present him, trained and collared, to his peers. There are two parties each year with the sole aim of testing the mettle of the new slaves; if a slave is not good enough for a Hunter, then the Hunter must dismiss the slave. 

Dean doesn’t want to admit it, but he doesn’t want to sell Cas off to someone else. He wants to keep him. Only he doesn’t know how to tell that to Cas without sounding weak. A Master shouldn’t be attached to a slave, but there’s something about Cas that Dean likes. A lot. And he doesn’t know what else to do to train him. He knows Cas can be obedient, and responsive, and given time, he’ll be a great slave. But it will be up to Cas whether Dean can keep him. 

On the night of the party Cas looks sick. Dean considers postponing it, but perhaps it’s better to get this over and done with. So, he gives a trench coat to Cas to wear, cuffs his hands behind his back, puts him at the back seat of his car off he goes. Each time he checks back, Cas looks a little bit paler, but Dean doesn’t have a choice. 

When they arrive at the Hunters’ Lodge, Dean pushes Cas out and guides him inside. “I know you don’t feel well,” he whispers as he goes for the Changing Room, “but you need to be very good for me tonight, Cas. Can you do that?” He stares at Cas, trying to make him understand how important this is, and Cas stares back. “Can you?”

“Yes, Master,” Cas finally whispers back. 

Dean is probably spoiling him, but he can’t help leaning down and kissing him. Cas opens his lips for him instantly, moaning with longing. “That’s my good boy,” Dean tells him with a swift pass of his lips on the tip of Cas’ nose. “Now, let’s see,” he says, pushing Cas inside the room. “Tonight is Pet Night.” He lets Cas see the different costumes and accessories, some in open closets and some in boxes. “I don’t think you’re a dog,” he says, ignoring the variety of tails and ears. “Definitely not a pony,” he winks. “Maybe a cat; god knows you’re moody enough these days, and when you do that thing with your tongue...” Dean shivers, wishing the night were over and they were back at home, with Cas giving him a slow blow-job with tiny, kittenish licks of his tongue. 

He studies Cas for a moment, and then goes back to the different costumes. “Pig? No, I can’t see that. Squirrel? No. Meerkat?”

Cas huffs behind him, and Dean smiles in response. He’d missed Cas’ signs of amusement and still wonders how Magda reduced him to giggles. Perhaps he ought to try teasing him with feathers instead of whips. Maybe just a couple of clamps to remind him whom he belongs to, but the rest should be fun and light stuff.

“I got it,” he says finally, raising a set of white, fluffy ears. “You’re a bunny. Shy with everyone on the outside, but a total slut on the inside.” He finds the matching plug and teases Cas’ nose with the fluffy tail. “Yes, definitely a bunny,” he laughs when Cas scrunches his face. “Come here.”

Cas stays still while Dean puts the ears on his head and sighs softly when Dean turns him around and spreads him open with a lubed finger. His sigh turns into a moan when Dean pushes the plug in, and that into a groan when Dean unlocks his cock-cage. “When we are inside I will uncuff you,” he promises. 

Cas nods and when Dean puts the lead on his collar, he looks at it strangely.

“Time to play, bunny.”


	17. Chapter 17

The interior of the club is dark and loud. Castiel wonders if caves are anything like that, frightening and oppressive. He hates the music immediately and stays close to Master Dean, closer than necessary. When Master Dean sits at a booth, he makes to kneel but His feet, but Master Dean pulls him up on His lap. 

An hour later he still doesn’t understand why Master marked this party with three crosses. So far, Master Dean had done nothing but kept him on His lap, feeding him small pieces of carrot with His hands when He’s not touching him. It’s a similar story for the other Masters and slaves around him; they all wear tails and ears that mark them as animals and so far, nothing is happening. The dogs are kept by Their Master’s feet, cats and ferrets are on Their lap, while the few ponies are standing behind Them. 

The proximity to His Master and His touches are driving him mad, but he suspects that he is not allowed to cum, so he keeps thinking bad things that can happen to him if he disobeys. Clothespins and needles and burning candles. Being sold. That thought kills any erection he might begin to have instantly. 

“Ready to play?” A tall, blond man leans over Master Dean. He’s all muscle but he’s also lean, and Castiel would like to be like when he grows up: tall and strong. 

“Of course.” Master Dean gives his leash to the man. “Be good, pet.” 

Cas nods. Master means to whore him out again, but these past two days without Master’s touch had been true torture for him. If being with Master means being Master’s whore, then he will be that. 

“A bunny, huh? Don’t worry, we’re good to household pets around here,” the man laughs and his eyes are twinkling. 

Castiel doesn’t believe him, but that’s irrelevant. 

The man leads him to a room that opens to a theatre-like room. From the open door, he can see that the stage has a wooden contraption in the middle to support a leather sling, but there are hooks and rings on the beams that are intimidating. The seats are all around the stage, and there is a balcony above with more seats. He wonders if Master will be there. 

Within minutes the room is full. Castiel is not the only pet there, but he is the only one in bunny ears. It’s all a bit ridiculous, but what Master wants, Castiel will do. 

“On your knees,” the man orders them. Seconds later Castiel someone puts a blindfold over his eyes and ties it tightly. Then he feels someone (the same person?) place a piece of wood behind his legs, and pull his balls back so that they rest against it. Then another piece is placed over that.

“That is a humbler,” the man says. “Try to stand up.” 

Castiel does and the pain is unbearable. It feels like his balls are stretched out of his body. He falls down immediately.

“Now you know what it does,” the man laughs. 

Someone tugs at his leash and Castiel moves slowly forward. They’re being led to the stage, and he feels ill. Everyone will be watching him. But so will Master Dean. This is for Master Dean, he tells himself. Nothing matters as long as Master is happy with Cas. He’ll be a good little whore. Not that it stops his eyes from filling with tears. 

“Welcome to the first Pet Night of the year,” the man announces with excitement. “I know I can’t wait, so without further ado, I present you this semester’s pets. We have an excellent selection tonight. A ferret, two kittens, a lamb, three puppies, a pony and a bunny. But are they really worth keeping?” 

The crowd roars and yes, everyone in the Club will be watching. It’s so embarrassing, and nothing has happened yet. 

“The first game of the evening is a simple one.” There’s a series of thudding noises and someone gives him something. Castiel touches it. “At the sound of the bell, you must move and collect balls from the ground. Put them in your basket. When you hear the bell ring again, stop. The more balls you gather, the better. But if you fail to collect any, you will be punished.” 

Castiel shivers and when the bell rings, he moves as quickly as he can. It’s not easy not knowing where he’s going, with other slaves bumping into him all the time. He can sense everyone’s franticness as they don’t know how much time they have, or how many balls there are, and how far they have to go, and that feeds his own stress. And the more time passes and he keeps feeling that other slaves are probably quicker than him to get to the balls, he feels panic-stricken. When finally his hand closes on one ball, he feels that he can breathe more easily. 

By the time the bell rings Castiel has managed to gather three balls, but he hopes that it’s enough to make him avoid punishment. He puts his basket forward, and waits for the inspection. 

“Hm,” the man says thoughtfully, and he sounds a lot closer suddenly. “Hm,” he says as he moves away. “Well, well, well.”

“The bad news is that all the pets have found their balls.” There are boos from the audience. “The good news is that one pet didn’t manage to get as many as the others.”

When someone touches Castiel and removes the humbler from him, he feels dread and not relief. That same person leads Castiel up and forward and Castiel’s fear grows. 

“This means,” the man continues, “that we can continue playing with the bunny in this main stage. If you want to see how the other pets will do, please continue to the Red Room. For the rest of you....”

Castiel is pushed down on the sling. “Do you want to be tied up?” A woman asks him softly. 

“No, Lady.” He will not dishonour His Master again. Even though the question makes him break out in a cold swear. 

“Do you want to be gagged?”

“No, Lady.”

She doesn’t say anything else, but she guides his hands to the straps of the sling. Then she spreads his legs wide but doesn’t put them in the stirrups he’d noticed when he saw the sling. Finally, she moves his hips forward until his buttocks are resting at the edge of the sling, and takes out the plug. 

“Three only? What a pathetic number,” another man tells him. He feels a slick finger push at his hole. “Damn, you’re tight. I’m glad I get to play with your little hole. I’m going to put the balls in now. Push it in. Yes, just like that.”

It’s uncomfortable and strange but not painful. 

“One more. Keep that one in.”

As if he has a choice. But he relaxes himself and the second one slides in quite easily. It’s the third that actually hurts. He doesn’t think there’s enough space, so he lets out a little whine.

“Push it in, pet.”

When it’s in, he moans. 

“Good. Now, push it out, pet.” He pushes and when it starts coming out, the man speaks again. “Stop pushing. Keep it there.”

The sensation of that ball being pushed in and out is strange, and a bit painful. But that doesn’t compare with the pain he feels when the man pushes it in, and then pushes his penis in. He’s never felt fuller or more stretched. He slides in and out three times, and then, “Push the ball out now,” he says as he moves away. Castiel does, the ball gets stuck on his hole, and then the man pushes it back in with his penis. “There we go. Push it out,” he says as he retreats. 

The man continues this game for a few minutes, and Castiel starts getting more and more tired of pushing the balls in and out. He wishes the man would take them out and simply fuck him. 

“Okay, that’s it, push them out,” he says. “Push them all out. That’s one. Two more, pet. Come on, you can do it. Two. One more. Three. Good pet.”

Castiel drops his head back, exhausted. 

“Wow, was that hot or am I having a fever?” the first man exclaims. “Let’s see what our pet thinks. Was that hot?”

Castiel doesn’t answer. He’s not sure if he’s allowed to speak. 

“Perhaps the little bunny needs a reminder about what hotness feels like.” 

Someone, the second man probably, puts his legs in the stirrups. It’s not a good sign, and when the woman puts his hands in cuffs attached to the straps he doesn’t know if he should feel grateful or scared. His penis and testicles are tied next, although he doesn’t understand why. They can’t expect him to get hard when he’s in pain, do they? When he feels something warm near the base of his penis, he feels fear. 

It has to be a candle, it has to be, that concentrated warmth. When something hot splashes on his penis, he knows it is so. He bites back a cry because things will get worse so there’s no point crying out from now. This wax burns when it falls, not like the wax Master had used on him. Still he endures it as silently as he can while the person holding the candle makes it drop in a ring around his penis.

His relief when it stops is short-lived. No one moves him, so there are so many things they could do to him, and he has no idea what. Then he hears a chain, a heavy one from the sound of it, near him, and the next moment, something heavy tugs his testicles down, squeezing them tight at the same time. Something clicks, and the weight is doubled. He gasps, feeling painfully stretched. 

“One more,” the man whispers to him, and so he takes a deep breath when he hears another click, and holds it. The pain is greater still, but then it becomes bearable again, and he feels something wet and soft across his testicles. The first shocked gasp that leaves his lips is from pleasure, the second from pain. As the man sucks his testicles hungrily, taking them into his mouth, Castiel can’t tell apart the two sensations apart. But then the man stops, lets the chains fall with a clanking noise to the ground, and there’s nothing but pain. He pants, unable to control himself.

Sometime later, perhaps a minute, although it feels much longer, the man takes off the chains one by one. Castiel winces as they fall down, the noise suddenly too loud in the quiet of the room. 

“Kiss me,” the man says, and when Castiel’s lips part, the man fucks into his mouth, his tongue brutally possessive. He tastes of toothpaste. Too focused on that, he fails to notice at first that his genitals are free of any restraint, and that the man is stroking him swiftly. He arches into the touch, and lets the man sweep his tongue around his mouth and bite his lips. The pain from the kiss melts into the sweetness of the strokes. 

“Come,” the first man instructs him, breath hot in his ear, and Castiel does, tensing first and then grateful for being bound. He feels so tired. 

“God,” the first man groans. “Next year, I’m getting myself a bunny.”

The woman releases carefully, while the second man helps him up. “You did well,” she whispers in his ear. 

He chuckles. Fancy that. He did Master proud? 

The second man supports him as they walk out. Castiel wants to ask for Master, but his mouth is dry and his tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth. He’s feeling strange too, light-headed and oh, so tired. The walk never ends. Why can’t he be home with Master? He wants something to drink, and Master. In that order. Or maybe Master first, and then water? He just wants to go home. 

He whimpers when the second man stops – are they not going home? – but then he’s helped up someone’s lap and he smells His Master’s scent. He sighs, relieved. Did Master see? Did he do well? 

Master gives him something to drink, but Castiel just wants to stay close to Master Dean, and never let go. Master smells sweet and spicy, like leather and vanilla and beeswax. He nuzzles Master, and holds him tightly, refusing to be moved. He is home.


	18. Chapter 18

Cas smells of wax, sweat and sex when he is placed on Dean’s lap. Dean gives him water, and rubs his back, but his actions only make Cas cling to him even more tightly, and nuzzle his neck and face.

“You got yourself a real snuggle-bunny,” Balthazar laughs as he sits down. “The decision was unanimous. You can keep him,” he grins. 

“Thanks.” He tries to untangle Cas’ hands from around his neck. “God,” he mutters. “Cas, you can let go now.”

Cas nuzzles him again.

Balthazar’s expression turns serious. “Also? I called you a taxi.”

“What the hell? You know I came here with my car. I’m not leaving my baby here.”

“It’s either the car or your slave, Dean.”

“Cas is fine. He can ride in the back, same as when we came here.”

Balthazar glares at him. “Right now, your pet needs you more than your car.”

Dean glares back. “You think?” he says mockingly. 

“I know. You can be such an idiot, sometimes. A creative idiot, I’ll grant you that. After all, that’s why you got accepted here when Alastair recommended you, but still, an idiot.” He sighs, and brushes Cas’ hair for a moment when he stands up. “Go home, Dean.”

Dean glares but since Balthazar has already retreated, it’s not that effective a means of protesting. Cas is fine, isn’t he? Just because he’s a bit more clingly than usual, and when Dean tells him it’s time to go, he mumbles something unintelligible, or when Dean tries to move him, he refuses to – fuck, Cas is not fine at all. 

After two failed attempts to make Cas stand up and walk, Dean has no choice but to carry him. At least Cas’ hands are as tight around his neck as before when he gets up and moves out of the Club, so that’s one less worry. He still glares, though, especially whenever a Hunter tries to touch Castiel, or compliments Dean on his pet’s performance. Finally, he casts one look of longing to his baby, asking her forgiveness, and climbs into the taxi. 

The taxi driver doesn’t even raise an eyebrow, as if having men get into his car in the middle of the night with naked slave-boys in their arms is a common occurrence. For all he knows, it probably is. He wouldn’t put it past Balthazar to know exactly who are all the kinky drivers in town (after all, slavery is one thing, public nudity another). Which is good, real good, because this thing with Cas scares him and he doesn’t want to argue with anyone right now. 

‘Cas has never gone into sub-space’ is just an excuse and he knows it. Different things for different slaves, and whether it was the crowd, the sensory deprivation, the combination of pain and pleasure, it doesn’t matter. Thing is, Cas was floating out there, and he was too busy being proud and selfish to notice how gone Cas was, thinking that just a hug and a back-rub would be enough. He wasn’t just an idiot. He was an asshole. So, he holds on to Cas as tightly as Cas holds on to him, and promises to do better next time. 

By the time they’re back to his house Cas has fallen asleep. Instead of waking him up, he manages to pay the driver with one hand, giving him far more money than the ride is worth, and then carries Cas inside. Cas needs a bath, but he looks so relaxed, and still so tired, that Dean can only put him down in the middle of his bed, cover him, get out of his clothes, and lie down beside him. 

It seems that even when you’ve been a jerk, sleep still comes easily. Dean doesn’t remember dreaming, but when he wakes up, his dream is right there, in his arms, facing away from him and at the perfect place for Dean to take him, if he so chooses. He doesn’t. What he does is slide down his hand, part his legs carefully so as not to wake him, and move Cas’ dick gently behind. 

In the faint light coming from outside Cas looks so vulnerable like that, his cock tucked between his legs, so delicate against Dean’s hand. Dean strokes him slowly, teasing him into hardness despite the awkward angle. When Cas responds with a sudden twitch of his hips, Dean takes the head into his mouth, and sucks it shallowly. 

It’s such a small distance from there to Cas’ hole, and the skin against Dean’s cheek is so soft and smooth that he has to have a small taste. If he had washed Castiel last night, he could have been rimming him now, and how he regrets it, but at least he can press tiny kisses on his ass and spread open his ass cheeks. That little hole is puckered up close, and Dean spits on it, puts one finger against it, teasing, not pressing inside, until Cas moans and his dick shudders against Dean’s flesh. How can he resist?

There’s a drop of precum on top and Dean licks it hungrily. The head is so silky, so smooth, and he can’t stop tasting it over and over again. Small licks turn into sucking, and sucking into taking Cas’ cock as much down his throat as the awkward position will allow. Cas thickens inside his mouth, and that’s all the encouragement Dean needs for continuing. 

A change in Cas’ breathing and a gasp alert him to Cas waking up. Dean doubles his efforts, bobbing his head up and down and licking along the shaft, while he starts fingering Cas in earnest: from rubbing circles around the rim of his hole, to sliding his finger inside until the second knuckle, to moving his finger cautiously back and forth and just a little sideways, as if Cas is made of glass that won’t budge, instead of warm, tight flesh that can be spread open. 

Cas cums with a delicious, little moan and an even more delicious shudder. Dean swallows his semen hungrily, feeling its bitter warmth slide down his throat, and removes his finger with difficulty. He wants more, so much more, but first they need to talk. 

Cas pulls himself up a little, and looks behind him at Dean. Dean gives him a lazy grin. “Lie down,” he says, pushing him down before Cas has the chance to obey. Then he moves up, and covers Cas with his body, kissing the boy’s nape. “You taste so good,” he whispers. 

Cas sighs happily. 

Dean sighs too. He can’t do this like that, not facing him. Cas needs to understand, but he too finds it so difficult to explain instead of ordering. Why are things so difficult with Cas? He closes his eyes, giving Cas another kiss. Because he cares, that’s why. He’d never cared for the other slaves that he’d had. Not like that. So, he pushes himself up, and shifts Cas so that they’re lying side by side again, facing each other.

The more Cas wakes up, and how fucking amazing is that Dean can see exactly how Cas becomes more and more aware of his surroundings, the more Cas starts tensing. Dean hates that. He caresses Cas’ face, and when Cas closes his eyes in contentment, he kisses him. “Sweetheart, you did so well last night. You were so good, so wonderful, so beautiful.”

Cas blinks. 

“I bet it was intense, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” Cas agrees, voice still rough from sleep.

“You know why I did this?”

“Because Master wished it?”

His inner-Sam!voice tells him that he’d acted like a total jerk if Cas thinks it was just a whim. Yes, it is a turn-on for him to see Cas, or any of his slaves with others, but it’s not just that. “No, Cas,” he tells him seriously, and rubs his back tenderly when he sees Cas tense and look at him with fear, fear of punishment at what Cas thinks is a wrong answer. All that because Dean has been a jerk. He waits until Cas relaxes before he continues. “It’s not just because of that, just because it pleases me greatly to see you fucked by strangers because you’re such a slut.”

Cas tenses again, and Dean wants to kick himself. He shouldn’t be telling Cas he’s a slut when he should be praising him. “I want you to be a good, little slut for me, Cas, and good sluts do as the Master tells them, and get fucked by men. Many men.”

“Yes, Master,” Cas replies quietly, looking resigned. 

“And you know what turns me on the most when I see you with others?”

“No, Master.”

“That you’re mine.” He brings Cas close to him, holding him tightly and making him look at him at the same time. “That you are such a good boy for me, and you obey me in everything, even when I know it hurts you.” He kisses Cas on the forehead. “That you are mine, and they only have you because I wish it, and they’re burning with jealousy that they can’t have you forever.” The next kiss is on the tip of Cas’ nose. “That you are mine, and you come back to me at the end of each session, with marks of your devotion to me on your body.” He kisses Cas chastely on the lips. “That’s what pleases me the most. That your obedience is proof of your love. Because, you love me, Cas, don’t you?”

“I do, Master,” he replies immediately, blushing a little. The next moment he pales, looking at him with fear.

Dean laughs, and kisses him again, sweetly and slowly until Castiel moans and writhes against him. “Don’t ever change,” he whispers. “You’re not just ‘slave’, Cas,” he admits. 

“Your slave?” 

“No,” Dean smiles. “You’re not my slave. You’re my Cas, my Castiel, my own. And my Cas is ‘Cas’, and not ‘slave’.” When Cas frowns, he nods. “You can refer to yourself in the first person from now on. But, when we play, can you still call yourself ‘your slave’ for me? I like it more.”

“I’ll try, Master,” Cas says seriously. 

“Good.” He’s about to reach for Cas’ hand and place it on his hard-on, when there’s a noise downstairs. “What the...” He gets up hastily, grabbing his gun on the way down. “You stay here.”

He moves as stealthily as he can, ready to take on anyone who dares interrupt him, when Sam looks up the stairs.

“Argh,” Sam screams. “Dude,” he whines, turning away and towards the living room. “Brain bleach, now.”

“You snuck into my house, you bitch,” Dean shouts at him. “I could have shot you, you fool.” He goes back into his room, puts the gun down and grabs a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. “Cas, why don’t you have a shower? Sam’s here. I doubt we’ll be able to go back to doing anything fun any time soon.”

Once he’s dressed, he goes back down. Sam has started making coffee, but his bitch-face is still on. “Dude, you were naked.”

“I sleep naked. You woke me up. Get over it.”

Sam grimaces. 

“What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Balthazar called me. Told me you’d left your car at the Club.” He tosses the keys to Dean. “You can thank me, you know.”

Dean snorts.

“So, fun night last night? So much fun you couldn’t drive back?” Even though Sam doesn’t quite approve of having slaves, he still likes to tease Dean about his activities – when he doesn’t try to make him talk about his feelings about slaves, that is. 

“You could say that.” Dean winks. Then he smiles. “I can keep Cas.”

“Oh. Oh.” Sam looks at him strangely. 

“Speaking of the devil,” Dean says when he sees Cas at the door, wearing nothing but his collar and sliding to his knees. “Cas, Samantha is such a sensitive flower that when you’re naked around him, his sensibilities get offended. Next time he’s here, remember to be dressed.” 

Cas flushes red, and nods.

“I’ll go get you something. Stay here.”

Dean goes up, rummaging in his drawers for a something old and comfy of his. Cas has some clothes, but now that Dean has committed himself to him, he can’t let him go around his friends – especially his brother – wearing something more suitable for a sex scene, and the outdoor clothes Cas has are plain and simple, like a work slave’s uniform. He wants them all to know that Cas is special and his. 

When Dean is happy with his selection, he goes downstairs, and stops behind the door when he hears, “Why is Sir Sam studying law?” Cas asking quietly.

“Erm... if you cut the ‘Sir Sam’ crap when Dean is not around, I’ll tell you,” Sam answers. “I know Dean can be a bit strict about his Rules, but I don’t give a damn about them.”

If Sam wasn’t his brother, Dean would kick his ass. But he’s curious to see whether Cas will obey him or not. 

“It will be our secret,” Sam coaxes him.

“Master Dean would disapprove,” Cas replies. “If that is the price for Sir Sam’s answer, then I’d rather not know.”

The answer makes Dean feel proud but Sam sighs. “Fine. If that’s how it will be... I’m studying law because I want to help people.”

“How?”

“By defending their rights. I know many people think lawyers are all for making money, but most people forget that if it weren’t for lawyers, our lives would have been more difficult. Did you know that we have laws that go back for thousands of years? The very first Roman law was ‘if one is summoned to court, then one must go.’ This is the basis of our system, isn’t? And, the early Romans also had a law that if someone has maimed someone, then he must either offer reparation or be maimed too.”

“I understand offering reparation, but what is the point of maiming the one who maimed first? The maimed person will not have his limbs back.”

“It’s the same principle as ‘an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.’ In the old days, it was easier to inflict the same punishment on a wrong-doer as the crime he had committed. But as law developed, people found other ways of regulating their behavior. So, law is in place to protect people, and that’s why I like it.”

“Hm. So, because slaves are property and not people, is that why they are not protected by law? Is that why Sir Raphael killed my friend and then we were punished by the School Master for having a disobedient slave as a friend?”

Sam gasps and Dean stops hiding before his brother can answer, or Cas can ask something else. “Cas, go get dressed. In my room, please.”

Cas crawls as gracefully as he can, and when he stops looking at the way his ass sways, he finds Sam glaring at him. 

“This, this is what’s wrong with slavery, Dean.”

“I...” He sits down. “It’s not like that for all of us, Sam. I’ve never permanently hurt any of my slaves.”

Sam looks sick. “That doesn’t make it alright.”

“I know,” he sighs. “The thought of anyone killing Cas just because he’s ‘property’...” Dean shudders. 

Sam pours Dean some coffee. “It’s not just Cas, Dean.”

“Sam, can we not talk about this now?”

“Dean, we need more slave-owners to change their attitude towards slavery. Then the law will follow.”

Dean shakes his head. “I’m not talking to the other Hunters about what to do with their slaves. And I’m not freeing Cas just because you think it’s best. Cas likes being my slave.”

“Of course,” Sam sneers. “As if he knows better.” Dean makes a ‘cut-it’ gesture with his hand, but Sam ignores him. “He might think he likes it, but what other choice does he have now?”

“Shut up,” he finally says, looking at the door where Cas is kneeling, staring at the floor. “Castiel. You like being my slave, don’t you?”

Cas looks up, and nods. “I love Master.”

“That’s not the same as liking being a slave,” Sam says gently.

“Sir Sam does not understand. I love Master Dean, and because I love Master, I want to be his slave.” 

“So, if you didn’t love Master Dean, you’d rather be free?” Sam’s tone is mild, but the way he glances at Dean is triumphant. 

“Being free is not an option,” Cas says after some thinking. “I was abandoned by my parents, and brought up at the State’s expense. I must repay my debt with my servitude.”

“Yes, but if you had the choice,” Sam insists. 

While Cas thinks about it, Dean is feeling more and more dizzy and sick. If their father had died at that fire that took their mother’s life, then he and Sam could have been slaves now. If they’d been taken in by a relative who’d then decide that one of them was enough, then the other would have been a slave now. But, luckily for him, their father lived. Fate is such a bitch. 

“If I had the choice,” Cas finally says, “what else would I do?” He looks at the floor. “I have few skills, and I’m not very strong. I’d end up homeless and a whore in days, until someone picked me off the streets and claimed me, or...” He looks just as miserable as when those guys made him feel like trash. “I’m happy being slave,” he says quietly. 

“That’s it,” Dean says, hitting the table with his fist, and making Sam jump up. “You’re going back to school. A proper school, not some slave training center.”

Cas stares at him with so much hope that Dean can’t stand it. He motions for Cas to come to him, and when he’s by the table he lifts him up. “You’ll go and learn whatever you want, until we find out what you like. And when we do, I’ll help you be the best at it. My Cas will have skills and training, so that one day he can really be free.”

Cas’ eyes are as wide as saucers. His hands are shaking when he holds on to Dean. 

“Of course, you’ll have to work hard to earn your freedom, both here and at school.” 

“Oh, yes, yes, Master. I promise I’ll work very hard. I promise I’ll do anything.”

Sam gags and shakes his head, but Dean doesn’t care. When he frees Cas, he will be freeing a person, not a slave. It’s strange, but the idea makes him glad. His Cas deserves that.


	19. Chapter 19

Epilogue – Three years later

 

The New Year’s Party at the Hunters’ Lodge is in full swing and yet Dean can’t tear his eyes off the spectacle in the main stage. His Cas, in nothing but a pair of white feathery wings behind his back, is tied on a cross, hoisting himself up with a muffled sigh. His body is glistening with sweat and oil, and there are red marks on his torso and legs from the whipping he endured earlier. He stays there for two moments, and when he can’t sustain himself any longer, he collapses with a deep groan on the big, fat dildo that is waiting for him, impaling himself. The toy is an exact replica of Dean’s cock, but only Dean, Balthazar and Castiel know that.

The theme this year was Angels and Demons and, after putting the matter to vote among the Hunters, the Demons won. This meant that the Angels suffered terribly in their hands of their enemies at the end of the fake war, and none more so than his Cas, who was fucked, spanked, fucked, whipped, and now impaled and tied to the cross. Not that he can blame the Demons for punishing Cas so; his Cas is gorgeous when he’s suffering. 

Cas is no longer the slightly built boy that he bought. One day, Dean woke up in bed with a tall young man with a deep voice, a young man with the body of a swimmer or a runner, and fell in love all over again. 

“Happy New Year,” someone tells him. 

Dean turns around. Fucking Zachariah fucking Adler, owner of Heaven, the city’s biggest slave School, Castiel’s old School. “Happy New Year,” he says. Asshole. 

Zachariah follows Dean’s gaze to the stage. “So, are you ready to move on? I have some exquisite young things that I’m certain will be of great interest to you.”

Dean shrugs, not wanting to discuss anything with Zachariah.

“I’d even give you a good price, provided you agreed to a little... exchange.” Zachariah points to the stage. “Old Castiel for any new slave you want.”

“Castiel is not for sale.”

“Are you sure? How long have you had him?”

“Three years.” Three great years. 

“And how many years do you see yourself using him still?” Zachariah gives him a knowing grin. “How many years more will you share his cunt? He’s not that young anymore.” 

Dean holds on tightly to his glass. “He is mine, and is not for sale.”

“Well, if you change your mind, you know where I’ll be.” Zachariah looks back at the stage. “Though I won’t wait for too long. No one wants a well-used ass.”

“Fucker,” he mutters, draining his champagne. 

Balthazar is there a moment later, offering a refill. “Was that Adler I just saw?”

Dean nods, disgusted. “He’s still after Cas.”

“Figures,” Balthazar says mildly. “You know, if you were to sell him, I’d be more than glad to take him off your hands. He’s by far the best performer I’ve had play here in years, with his innocent look and his sexy body. Irresistible.” 

What’s wrong with everyone? “Cas is not for sale,” he growls. 

“Easy there, tiger. It was just a suggestion.” Balthazar’s expression softens. “You know I’d never let anything happen to Cas. I’d be a good Master for him.” 

Ever since the first night he brought Cas to the Lodge, the President of the Hunters’ Club had taken a liking to Cas. Dean knew that. 

“He’s like the little brother I never had. A slutty, little brother that I’d love to fuck, but you know what I mean.”

Dean grimaces. He doesn’t. “I’m thinking of changing his status,” he says. “From slave to Companion.” 

“You serious? You have to keep a Companion for ten years minimum. They have limits. If you separate, he gets part of your property.” 

“So?” He’d rather free Cas, but both he and Sam were certain that Cas was not ready to be emancipated yet. 

“Your call, man. I just – I’d never do it. I’m happy with slaves.”

So was Dean, but not anymore. Now he’s happy with Cas, and he wants the world to know that. Sam is family, but Cas is home.


	20. Chapter 20

“Fucking Adler wanted to buy you again. So did Balthazar,” Master Dean tells Castiel once they are back in the house. 

Castiel smirks. “What did Master tell them?”

“That you’re not for sale, what else?” He flops on the bed, and unbuttons his jeans to stroke himself while Castiel removes his boots and trousers. “God, when you were up there, fucking yourself on that dildo. I wanted to be that dildo so much.”

He smiles a little. “That dildo was based on Master’s cock, Master.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

Castiel doesn’t reply, pretending to be too busy getting Master Dean naked. 

“Well?”

“Why ask me that, when you know the answer?” Castiel blushes. 

“Because I like it when you admit how much you like it.” 

“Well...” 

Castiel knows he must looks so put-upon when he lies next to Master Dean and holds Him, because Master Dean laughs the way he does when Castiel is being adorably obnoxious. At least this time, Master Dean doesn’t tell him that. He takes Castiel’s hand and kisses the reddened skin on his wrist. “Wait a sec,” He says, reaches for the cream inside the drawer and when He finds it, He applies it liberally on Castiel’s wrists. “Okay, now you can tell me,” He says when He’s finished. 

He nuzzles Master instead of answering. 

“Cas?” 

More than Master’s orders, Castiel can’t resist Master’s pleas. “I liked it,” he whispers. “I liked it because Master was watching, and because, in the end, it felt good.” He’s not lying; being allowed to cum at the end of a scene, with Master watching but unable to touch him? Castiel feels like he’s giving himself to Master Dean all over again.

Master strokes himself. “I want to fuck you so much.”

Castiel nods, and reaches for the lube. “So sore,” he mutters, hoping that Master will be kind and knowing that he won’t. It sends a little thrill of excitement down his belly that Master disregards his wishes. It makes him feel desirable, which is so messed up because he just had a whole room of men telling him how gorgeous he was, and four men’s cum still drying on him as proof. But when Master does it, it’s different. 

“I know, baby, I know.” He takes the lube from Castiel’s hands and squirts some on His hands. Then, He touches Castiel’s penis. “Can you manage one more round for me, baby?” Dean laughs when Castiel hardens instantly. “I fucking love you,” He says, smiling, and applying the lube on Castiel’s penis. 

“Master?”

Master nods, sliding His lubed finger inside Him. He moans, spreading His legs wider, and Castiel can see how His finger disappears slowly into His tight hole. Master closes his eyes and raises Hips. “Put your finger inside me, baby.”

His heart beats wildly as he puts some lube on his finger and presses it inside Master, right next to Master’s finger. It’s hot, and really tight, and Master groans in pleasure. “Yes, that’s it, Cas. Stretch me, baby. Make me ready for your dick.” 

Castiel blushes at the words but he knows what to do. He takes Master’s finger out, puts more lube on Master’s opening and pushes it inside with two fingers. Master grinds his ass on the bed, and raises his hips while Castiel’s stretches him. 

“I’m ready, Cas.” Master swallows. “I... ah... I prepared myself earlier for this. For you.” 

Castiel has to grab the base of his penis to stop himself from cuming. “Master?” he asks one more time, because if Master lets him enter Him, and then tells him to stop, he won’t. 

“I won’t say it again, Cas. Fuck me.”

Sliding inside Master is the most delightful sensation Castiel has ever felt. If Master felt warm and tight against his finger, He feels even hotter, almost fever-hot, against his sensitive penis. The pleasure spreads from the head to the shaft, pools low inside his stomach and from there moves upwards, possessing him. He stops when he has a couple of inches in, and waits for Master to become used to him. He doesn’t even know if Master has ever done this before; He has never allowed Castiel this. But even though he doesn’t want to move further yet, he can’t stop moving altogether, and his thrusts are short and shallow. 

Master groans. “You’re killing me, Cas. Move, damn it, I can...”

Castiel pushes forward with all his strength until his penis is entirely inside Master, and Master lets out a cry. Castiel wants to kiss him so much.

“God, yes.” He wraps his legs around Castiel’s waist and keeps him close to His body. He looks so beautiful like that, straining upwards and wetting his lips. “Faster.”

Castiel doesn’t need to be told twice. It’s like his body can’t keep away from Master’s. It’s like he wants to buried inside Master and never come out. Master is so tight, and yet so giving, His body strong and muscled and yet so yielding. Every time Castiel thrusts inside him, Master moans, and every time he retreats, Master urges him on. 

“Yes, Cas, right there. Fuck, do that again. God, that feels so fucking good.”

Master has no idea how fucking good it feels. Castiel puts Master’s feel on his shoulders, and that immediately allows him to go deeper. He’s going to melt from Master’s heat, or he will become something new, he doesn’t know and he doesn’t care. He just wants to go as deeply as he can, as fast and harder, and make Master scream like that, just like that, with one fist grabbing the sheets and the other stroking His cock so furiously it’s like His fist is flying over the shaft.

“Yes, Cas, yes, baby, fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.”

Master shudders and cums all over His stomach, panting like He’d just finished running. 

Castiel isn’t far behind. He tries to move away, but Master keeps him there, His hand on Cas’ wrist binding him to Him. He wishes this moment could last forever, him inside Master, Master’s hand on him, but he can’t hold back anymore. He cums, filling Master with his seed, and everything sways around him.

“Cas?” 

Master’s voice is gentle and concerned when he hears it. “Yes?”

Master grins and presses a glass of water against his lips. “I’ve always wondered what it would take to make you see stars.”

He drinks, grateful. “I didn’t see any stars. Just black.”

Master laughs. Next thing Castiel feels is Master’s arms around him, shifting him. Sometimes, he misses being so small he could nestle in Master’s arms, but this feeling of having Master stretched out next to him, His body aligned almost perfectly with Castiel’s when they hug, is just as wonderful. 

“Hey, Cas,” Master says quietly, but seriously. 

“Yes, Master?”

“You’ve been my slave for three years now, right?”

Castiel freezes. “Yes, Master.”

“And, it wasn’t all bad, was it?”

“No, Master.” There were many things he would change about them, but still, being with Master Dean was better than being with other Masters. And he loves Master. Perhaps he always will. 

“What if...”

Castiel can barely breathe. Master will free him. Because Castiel has worked hard and has been good, has done everything Master asked without complaining, has learned to like what Master did to him, Master will finally free him. Now that Castiel has skills, and speaks three languages and is good at fighting, so he could work in an office or join the army or do whatever he wants, Master will finally free him. His heart will jump out of his breast if Master doesn’t speak soon. 

“I would like to change your status from slave to Companion,” Master says quickly. “I’m selfish, I want to keep you a while longer,” he whispers against his cheek.

Castiel is glad that Master can’t see his face well, because Castiel is certain that his disappointment shows. Hasn’t he been good? 

“Slaves can’t go to university,” Master continues, “but Companions can. I will pay for your tuition fees, and...” Master sighs. “Sam is right; it would be a shame if you didn’t finish getting a proper education. You’re smart, Cas. You deserve a better job than what you’d get with a high school diploma.” Master snorts. “And, yes, keeping you around for another ten years is not bad.”

“Yes, Master.” When put that way, becoming a Companion is not that bad. When the ten years are over, Castiel will demand his freedom, and then he will get it. 

“Enough with that ‘Master’ crap,” Master grins. “Call me ‘Dean.’”

“Dean?”

“Yes, that’s right. Now, one more time without the question mark,” he laughs.

“Dean,” Castiel tells Him with greater assurance. He kisses Mas—Dean gratefully on the mouth, and moves sinuously against Hi—him. Tonight, he will thank Dean properly for his gift. Tomorrow, he will call Sam and find out about his rights. Companions can tell their Partner ‘no’ on things, can’t they? 

If Dean thinks that Castiel will act as his whore much longer, he is mistaken. But, he smiles sweetly, giving Dean another kiss, Dean doesn’t have to know that yet.


	21. Chapter 21

3\. Ten years later

To say that he’s nervous is an understatement. “What if he doesn’t like it?” Dean asks Sam anxiously.

“Dude, he will. Trust me on this.” Sam smiles. “I’ve been working with Cas for the past six years and I’m telling you, there’s nothing else he wants in the world.”

Dean sighs. “If you say so.”

“I know so. Now, relax and let things happen as they must. Cas will be here soon.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just... it’s a big thing for me.”

“It’s a big thing for Cas too, Dean, and this is not for you, but for him. If you really love him, as you say you do, you will do this.”

Dean grimaces. “Fine, I will, only to stop you from talking about ‘love’ again.”

“Why, you don’t love him?”

“Erm...”

Sam makes a disgusted sound. “You are hopeless.” 

The door opening saves Dean from the rest of Sam’s comments. First to enter is Cas, and then comes Ellen, Jo and Ash. 

“Why the long face?” Jo asks Dean. 

“Where’s the beer?” Ash asks.

“You look good,” Ellen tells Sam. 

Cas doesn’t say anything. He puts down his briefcase, and stares at Dean until Dean comes to give him a kiss. “Evening, Dean,” he says quietly, and Dean feels the hairs at the back of his neck rise up. Cas knows. 

“Hey, babe. Tough day at the office?” He says with a smile, pretending he’s not feeling so stressed, he’s probably about to start sweating. 

“Ask your brother. He’s the one who dumped all the preparation for the Mills case on me.”

“Only because you like challenges,” Sam smiles. 

Cas snorts, and then surveys the room. “Dean, half our guests are without a drink. Honestly. Who wants beer? Ellen, whiskey as usual?” He pushes Dean away and goes to deal with what he calls ‘Dean’s appalling lack of manners’.

Before Dean can protest that he was about to offer them drinks or snacks or whatever, the door bell rings again. This time it’s Balthazar. Now all his guests are here, and Dean can’t avoid it much longer. Sam gives him an encouraging look. 

Cas returns with a tray full of drinks, sees it, and frowns. “What’s the matter?” 

Dean takes the tray from him, puts it down, and then clears his throat. “Cas,” he starts and takes a deep breath. He so wishes they were doing this in the privacy of their bedroom or the basement, instead of here, but that’s the whole point. There have to be witnesses, at least one of them a Hunter. His legs can’t hold him up, so he sits down. “Cas,” he starts again. 

“What, Dean?” 

Oh, god, he can’t do this, but he must. “Fuck,” he sighs. “Look, I...”

“Spit it out,” Balthazar orders him, his sharp elbow digging into his back. 

Sam nods. 

“Cas, you know how I feel about you, right?” He takes out the papers. “There, I’ve already signed my part. Now it’s your turn.”

“What?”

“I’m freeing you. Officially. In front of witnesses and my lawyer.” He looks up at Cas. “You deserve this more than anything, and I’ve been selfish for too long.” 

For a moment Cas stares at him, and Dean thinks, hopes, wishes, that Cas will tell him that he’s happy as his Companion, and that he doesn’t want to be freed of him. “Where’s a pen?” he asks a moment later, and when he takes it from Dean’s nerveless fingers, he smiles like someone just gave him the world. When he signs, he grins like they gave him the moon too. “Thank you, Dean,” he says, still so happy. “Thank you.”

Dean wishes he could get mad, but he can’t, not when he sees Cas’ happiness. It tears him up that he will lose him, but he has to let him go. “So, now that you’re a free man, what will you do?” 

Cas studies him, and then falls to his knees.

“Cas, you don’t have to do this. Ever again,” he tells him, horrified. “Get up.”

The look that Cas gives him can be described either as ‘withering’ or ‘cold’ or ‘disparaging’. “Dean Winchester,” he tells him in an equally icy tone. “You can’t tell me what to do anymore.”

Dean will forever deny that he let out a meep when he heard that. He will also forever deny getting hard from it.

“As I was about to say,” he starts and his tone is so much softer now, “Dean Winchester, will you do me the honour to marry me?” He takes out a small box from his pocket and opens it. The ring is made of three interlocking rings, two silver and one gold, simple and elegant at the same time.

“Your first act as a free man is to get saddled with me? Are you sure?” The problem with his mouth is that it has no filter, as Sam often tells him. 

Cas glares at him. He snaps the box shut. “Is that your answer, Winchester?”

“Don’t you want to think about it?” That damned filter has yet to appear, obviously. 

Cas stands up. “I’ve given it enough though, thank you very much. It would seem, though, that, you have not considered it at all.”

“No, I...” 

Cas turns around to face him, eyes narrowed. “You what?”

“Yes,” he says quickly. “I have thought about it too,” he admits. “But, Cas...”

“Don’t tell me I don’t know what I want, Dean. I’m not that child you bought years ago. You can’t manipulate me any longer.” Cas steps next to him, and touches his face tenderly. “I’ve trusted you for so long, Dean. Can’t you trust me now?”

“I still think you’re mad,” he says as he leans into the touch. “But if you’ll have me, what can I say but ‘yes’?”

When Cas kisses him, it is the best kiss ever. Even Jo’s ‘awww’, and Ash’s ‘gah’, or Balthazar’s ‘get a room’ is not enough to stop him from surrendering to Cas.


	22. Chapter 22

4\. Ten more years later

Watching his brother squirm will never stop being funny. Although, unlike Dean, he’s not a jerk, and so he only smirks. “Smile for the camera,” he tells him.

“Bitch,” Dean mutters.

Cas gives Dean a look and the change is immediate and impressive. “You so owe me,” he tells Cas with a wide, fake smile.

“I know, and you can take it out on my hide tonight in the basement.” Cas’ look turns sultry. “In fact, if you won’t, I’ll be disappointed.”

Dean gasps, and his expression glazes.

“TMI, guys,” Sam says and he opens the door wide. The noise is incredible, and so are the flashes from the cameras. He stays a bit further behind, but Dean is not as lucky. He has to walk across the room next to Cas, and look all happy and supportive, even though Cas is the only one to walk up the short, raised dais and stand behind the speaker’s podium.

“Thank you so much for coming here today,” Cas tells them with a small smile. “I appreciate it. I’m going to read out a short statement first, and then answer a few questions. So, yesterday I was saying how very proud I was of the way our campaign was run. Everyone worked very hard, getting in touch with people, talking to them, being informed and informing them. I’m very grateful for all the hard work people did.

“I’m looking forward to starting work immediately, and deal with the different issues that were raised by the voters. But before work starts, there are a few things that need to be said. First is giving praise to the elections officials for giving a master-class in transparent election processes. I am certain that everyone in the state must feel proud at how the elections were conducted. 

“Secondly, I would like to thank my opponent for giving me yet another opportunity to improve myself. As Sam Winchester, my former associate at Winchester and Moore, and Crowley, my campaign manager, keep telling me, I like challenges, and nothing has been more challenging so far than taking on Raphael De Angelis. I can assure you that I will put just as much determination and energy into the affairs of the state, as I did in defeating Mr De Angelis.

“But most of all, I want to thank the people for voting for me. It makes me humble whenever I think how many put their trust in me, and I’m fully aware of the responsibility that comes with this office. I will work hard to make medical care accessible to all, and give every child in the state the opportunity to have a good, solid education that will help them stand on their own two feet into the future. But most of all, I will continue to work hard to abolish slavery and the inhuman exploitation of human beings by human beings. Thank you. 

“I will now take questions.”

Everyone raises their hands like crazy, and Sam doesn’t blame them. Cas is not just any politician; he’s the first ex-slave to be voted Senator, after all. Dean, though, looks worried, as if he’s waiting for someone to shoot Cas just for being there. It must be such a huge stress for him. 

“Senator-elect, would you like to tell us how you felt when your opponent, Senator De Angelis, called you to inform you that he was conceding defeat?”

Cas smiles sweetly. “Happy. Relieved. Justified. It was the end of a long and bitter fight, but I knew that our cause was just, and so I had faith that we would win, as we did, in the end.”

“You may be a free man now, but how can you reassure slave-owners that your experiences as a former slave will not make you vindictive towards them?”

Sam rolls his eyes. 

“Who let Meg in?” Dean hisses.

“She is a journalist, Dean.” But he too wonders, and will make sure this doesn’t happen again. Or at least that no one lets here near a microphone.

Cas’ smile is even sweeter. “As you very well know, I am married to a man who still hasn’t taken his name off the slave owners’ register. In fact, I expected that your question would have been about my commitment to the abolition cause, since I am married to a slave-owner. God knows, I’m asked this at least twice per interview.”

That makes people laugh, but Meg doesn’t. Neither does Dean.

“Senator-elect, is it true that you are still your husband’s slave?”

“Do I need to carry my emancipation documents everywhere? Seriously, all the relevant documentation is in the Main Archives. Don’t expect me to do your research for you.”

“But, rumour has it that you are still your husband’s submissive,” the same journalist continues. 

Castiel stares at the man, as if he wants to smite him with his gaze alone. Then he looks down, and Dean knows he’s checking something on his phone.

“Only in the bedroom,” Dean mutters. “And only when he’s stressed, and wants me to take control,” he adds wistfully. “Of course, now that he’s Senator, he’ll probably be stressed more often,” Dean grins.

“What did I tell you about TMI, Dean? Argh.”

“Mr Walt Gibson?” Cas finally says, looking up. “Rumour has it you have an undeclared, underage female slave. Both are punishable offences, but you don’t hear me asking you about it, are you? Although, I just received confirmation that it is no longer a rumour, and that the police are waiting to arrest you outside. Whereas what I do with my husband is not an offense and no one’s business.”

“Although, when he’s angry like that, it’s a toss-up whether he’ll tie me up, or me him,” Dean continues.

“Dean, stop it.”

“Thank you,” Cas tells them all. “I will take no further questions. Looking forward to seeing you all soon,” he finishes with another lovely smile.

“He creeps me out when he smiles,” Dean whispers. 

“I know what you mean,” Sam agrees. “Six years in courts with him and that smile made hardened criminals quake in their boots.”

Cas walks down from the dais and heads straight towards them. “I was snarky, wasn’t I?” he asks Sam. 

“Crowley would have been proud,” Dean smiles. 

“Idiots, the lot of them. There are serious issues at stake, and what they care about is who tops.”

“Well,” Dean grins.

“Whatever you say, Dean, is TMI. I don’t want to know,” Sam protests. 

Cas and Dean share one of those moments where they stare in each other’s eyes and shut the rest of the world out. But since he and Jess do that, he doesn’t begrudge them. And, well, they do deserve it. 

“I wanted to tell them that I’m your sub in the bedroom only so badly,” Castiel finally said with just his eyes smiling. “And that you only tie me up when I’m really good.”

His brother and Cas have been together for more than twenty years and they still make him want to use brain bleach. “Screw you, guys.”

 

 

The end


End file.
